


Minor Characters VII: The Right Thing To Guide Us

by gelbes_gilatier



Series: Minor Characters [8]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Reality, Bits of Het, F/M, Gen, Mission Fic, Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a boring, bland babysitter mission for SG10. It ends up in a different reality. Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is the first chapter to that new story I promised and yeah, it's the one I consulted a theoretical physicist for. Since he actually kinda saved this story before I even started writing it, I'd like to thank him. Any scientific bogus stuff in this story is solely my fault so I hope there's not a lot of that to begin with :D

** Minor Characters: The Right Thing To Guide Us **

_“The right thing to guide us_   
_Is right here, inside us_   
_No one can divide us_   
_When the light is leading on_   
_But just like a heartbeat_   
_The drumbeat carries on.”_

_Nickleback, “When We Stand Together”_

** One **

_Moore_

“So, to conclude, Major Moore, Captain Greenspan, Sergeant DeLisle, your job will mainly be reinforcing the guards at the perimeter around the lab while Lieutenant Reece’s job will be helping the science team figuring out anything in Ancient coming up during their research. Any questions?” Mhnope.

Oh, wait, yes, _I_ do have _one_.

Why, in _God’s_ name, has it to be _my_ team that has to go to P8G-739 to babysit a few fucking crazy scientists doing God knows what on a godforsaken planet God knows where? It’s not like Reece is the only linguist in the entire SGC who knows a sufficient amount of Ancient to help some nerds to figure out where to switch something on and off. We’re a _Black Ops_ team, for Heaven’s sake. Artifact retrieval, hostage liberation, covert ops. _That’s_ our thing. Not fucking _babysitting_.

“Major? Anything to add?” Damn General Landry. Way too perceptive for a flag grade, that guy is.

I resist straightening up and just shake my head, doing my best to look like I never even missed a beat. “No, sir. Team’s ready to go on your mark.”

Landry nods and throws me a look that says that he knows very well how pissed off that assignment is making me but I guess it’s just punishment for effectively telling him to leave my team the _hell_ alone after our _kind_ of rogue rescue mission for Dee two months ago. I’m starting to get a feeling that I must have pissed him off even more than he let on. It _has_ been two months since we got the last mission actually suited to our profile. I wonder if there’s a coincidence? “Very well, Major. Departure is at 0900. Get yourself and your team ready. Dismissed.”

We get up and leave the room and one, two, three… “ _This_ is all _your_ fault, mister.”

I stop and give Laura a slightly annoyed look. “Last time I checked, _Captain_ , it was still _Major_.”

She growls and both Dee and Reece amazingly manage to look remarkably undisturbed. What happened to awkward and wishing to be anywhere but here, guys? “I don’t fucking _care_ what it is, Tom, because if we get _one more babysitting mission_ because you just _couldn’t_ listen to me only _once_ in your life and _had_ to go and invoke a fucking _General’s_ …”

“Uh, actually, I think this time it might be my fault?” What do you mean, _this_ time, Kid?

Also, what do you mean by “your fault”, precisely? “Uh, care to elaborate, Lieutenant?”

Now she does look a little uncomfortable, which is how I know that there must be a God, after all. Seriously, I’d been starting to worry that she might have finally fully lost every respect for me she still held. She clears her throat. “Well, you see, in the last couple weeks, a lot of people with usable knowledge of Ancient _and_ off-world clearance volunteered for the Pegasus Expedition and they just shipped off another bunch to Antarctica for familiarization and training.” Yeah, so? “And the rest is either already off-world, in the infirmary or on vacation. So… yeah, I really was the only suitable linguist they could find.” I swear to God, I _will_ have her examined for psychic skills next opportunity I get. This is getting downright scary. “Um, sorry? Sir?”

I… don’t believe this. Actually, I don’t even know which of those things I should start not believing first. It’s just… she just… she… she just spoke up. I mean, I should be used to her doing it by now but usually, she doesn’t get herself together so amazingly fast after opening her mouth without being spoken to first. Also, I’m pretty sure she never used that weird undertone that sounded as if she’s a primary school teacher explaining something patiently to a third-grader, before. And, lastly, _what does she mean there were no other linguists available_?

“Please don’t tell me that the SGC – _this_ SGC that is always overflowing with people knowing a weird-ass ton of languages – is _short on linguists_ who do _not_ belong to Black Ops teams and so are very well available for any kind of shit job involving a bit of reading stuff to physicists?” Mh. That probably wasn’t exactly the right tone to speak to her, was it?

She presses her lips together and I almost expect another outburst like the one she had when I was stupid enough to tell them to lay off looking for today and which resulted in a nice shiner for me. But then she says, in that same third-grade teacher voice, now with an added strain, “Yes, sir, I just said exactly that. And I hate to remind you but practically all of those “people knowing a weird-ass ton of languages” available at the moment do _not_ have off-world clearance. Far as I remember, the SGC is _strictly_ forbidden to send anyone without off-world clearance to other planets.”

A _ha_! “You just said _practically_ all of those people available didn’t have…”

“Meaning, sir, that _I am the only currently available linguist with an actual active non-restricted off-world clearance_. Oh God, I can’t believe…” Whoa. Uh, I… “Seriously, I just…”

“Maureen.” Oh what, _now_ you decide to intervene, Laura? _After_ my Lieutenant just practically _yelled_ at me right outside the briefing room?

“I’ve told him _twice_ now and he just won’t believe me.” Hey, I’m _right here_. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Laura? Put it on a post-it and shove it in his fucking _face_?” _Hey_!

“Maureen, really, let’s just all…” Ah, Dee, nice of you to join the conversation now, why don’t you?

“No, let’s not.” Oh yes. Yes, _let’s_. “Seriously, I’m…”

“Let’s all gear up and meet up at the gate room in fifteen.” There, that was my best attempt at diffusing a really weird, tense situation, ever since stepping between Lorne and Williamson after Williamson proposed to young Anna Lorne.

Uh…

 _Why_ is no one moving?

Oh, seriously?

“That was an _order_. Get fucking _moving_.” Reece just gives me another glare but Laura grabs her by her upper arm and drags her into the direction of the women’s locker rooms. At least sometimes, Laura can actually be of some use in commanding this team. Have to give her credit for that, at least.

Well, that leaves us guys and I catch Dee giving me a look that pretty much expresses my sentiment at this entire exchange. I frown at him. “That was pretty weird, huh?” He shrugs. “Hey… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

He shakes his head. “No, sir.” Yeah, well, as if he’d divulge any of Reece’s weird secrets, anyway.

I roll my eyes. “Had to ask. Now come on, I wanna get to the gate room before them, I’m still intent on winning that bet from two months ago.”

And without further ado, we’re finally on our way to the locker rooms. At least we’ll get to do _something_ soon as we get on that planet.

_Reece_

Oh God, I am so screwed. _Why_ did I just do that? _Why_ did I nearly yell at my fucking commanding officer? _What_ is the goddamn _matter_ with me? _How_ … “Okay, Maureen, what’s going on with you?”

Yeah, of course she’d ask that _right_ before a mission. Granted, it really is just babysitting but couldn’t she have picked a better moment? One with more time to think? Because frankly, I have _no_ idea. So, naturally, I try to feign ignorance. “No idea what you mean.”

“Mhm,” she says and clips on her flak vest, “sure. You totally didn’t notice that you just nearly punched Tom in the face again. _Right_ in front of the briefing room.”

I check a strap on my backpack, totally _not_ to evade her gaze. “I did _not_ just nearly punch the Major in his face. You must have imagined that.”

“You mean like you just imagined all “that weird tension between you and Dee, Laura, you really gotta do something about that”?” Ah, shit, she got me there.

I clip on my flak vest and force myself to look at her after all while hoisting up my backpack. “Look, I just… I don’t know. I guess I’m just getting tired of all those babysitting missions, too.”

She looks like she doesn’t buy it – and she would, as I now realize, be right with that – but she lets me off the hook in the end, hoisting up her backpack and then checking over her rifle one last time. “Alright, just… try to tone it down, okay? We’re all a bit on edge and you know how Tom gets when he has jack to do for too long.”

Grateful for her not deciding to dig deeper, I just nod and grab my rifle before exiting the locker room to jog down the hallways towards the gate room. While we make our way there, I feel a bit guilty for not telling her about my suspicions as to what is _really_ causing all that irritation.

Ever since that department wide meeting two months ago, Dr. Gutierrez, my immediate superior in departmental matters, doesn’t stop pushing me to decide whether I want to go to Atlantis or not. The expedition is supposed to leave in four weeks and she keeps telling me that there are still two spots open and how someone with my “unique qualifications” – meaning that I’m a linguist who can hold herself in a fight and doesn’t have any legal attachments or commitments back on Earth – should really, _really_ consider going. I also suspect that she thinks being on a non-scientific gate team is detrimental to my academic and professional development and that, let’s just spell it out, the Major in particular is the reason why I still don’t have even _considered_ grad school.

What a bunch of _bullshit_ , seriously. As if Major Moore would _actively_ prevent me from attending grad school. I’ve looked it up, there’s a program at the University of Colorado that’s tailored for the specific, well, let’s say “needs” of a Marine wanting to serve on a gate team while furthering her education and when I mentioned it briefly three months ago, he _didn’t_ immediately shoot me down. No, it was _me_ who decided to wait at least another year before deciding if I wanted to take on that workload _additionally_ to gate team duties or if I wanted to take a break from the SGC and go back to school full-time.

And still I can’t stop wondering if I’m not making a mistake in continuously turning down Gutierrez’s offers. Enough, actually, that I haven’t really been able to sleep a couple nights now and yeah, it’s starting to wear on me.

Anyway, I guess Laura’s right in asking me not to antagonize the Major any further. We’re all on edge, for whatever individual reason, and jumping at each other’s throats at any given moment isn’t gonna solve it, so I just buck up and hope that we get a moment before stepping through the gate in which I can apologize… nope, forget about that.

When Laura and I reach the gate room, the event horizon is already established and the Major and Dee are waiting for us. Dammit, they’re about to win that stupid bet we made at that barbecue at Major Lorne’s. I can’t believe they’re actually taking that shit seriously. We’d just been into the second bottle of vodka and it had been 0200 when we decided on that thing. Honestly…

“Ah, how nice of you to grace us with your presence, ladies.” You know what? Forget about that apology. He’ll never get any of that _now_. Asshole.

Even Laura seems sufficiently pissed off by now, because the only thing she says before stepping up on the ramp next to him is, “Try not to, Tom.”

Thank God, the “SG10, you have a go,” from behind the observation room’s windows keeps him from digging himself in even deeper and instead of replying, we all step up to the event horizon and he’s the first one through the gate, like always. Oh well. Off to another fun babysitter mission.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, hey, that was fast. Coulda been faster but yeah, uh, _things_ came up, so it took me a bit longer and... I'm not really happy with it, since it feels like a filler chapter and I really, really _hate_ writing filler chapters. I hope you still liked it, though?
> 
> PS.: Each and any Age of Sail references are solely the fault of the lovely **pingulotta** :D

** Two **

  _Greenspan_

Oh God, that was probably the worst gate ride I ever had. I don’t even know how any of that can happen in the seconds between stepping into the event horizon and exiting it on the other side but Jesus, I’m really glad I didn’t have more than a cup of coffee and a croissant this morning.

I had a rough time when I went through the Gate for the first time but I _swear_ it’s never been as bad as this. I really don’t remember puking my guts out after my first Gate ride, so there.

Anyway, now that that’s done and I managed to rinse my mouth with water and ignore the gnawing headache that’s still lingering, I can at least take care of the rest of the team, obviously having gotten no better deal than me. Or at least Tom and Dee didn’t but I’ve already looked over Maureen briefly and _she_ seems to be mostly okay. Not that I’m jealous or anything but damn, why didn’t _she_ get to throw up, too?

My next candidate is Tom since Maureen immediately went over to Dee to check up on him and he seems to be doing fine after she pushed him into drinking something. Tom, on the other hand… well. I’d really like to be sympathetic but all that comes to mind at seeing him throw up for the third time is, “Serves you right, _Major_.”

He glares at me before doing some more dry-heaving and then collapsing on his ass and putting his head on his knees. And staying like that. I snort. “Yeah, no, that’s not gonna work.” No reaction. Oh come on. “Tom, I need to do a check-up. And believe me, cooperating will make this a _lot_ easier for both of us.”

A groan. Then looking up and _finally_ submitting to my check up routine of pulse, temperature and pupils. _Why_ does he have to make it so _hard_ all the time? Seriously, if he hates being looked over by medical personnel so much, why did he even bother with bringing me on the team in the first place?

But yeah, he’s fine, as far as I can see, and I walk over to Dee – I really wish I wouldn’t have to get any closer to him than two feet but then again, that’s my fault so I buck up and do it – to do the same with him. Maureen, on the other hand, pretty clearly doesn’t need any looking over, at all. She’s not even half as pale as any of us anymore. If I weren’t her friend, I’d be green with envy now. It really isn’t fair that the least experienced member of the team gets away so lightly, really.

“Hey, Kid, how come _you_ didn’t puke your heart out?” Right. Tom doesn’t have any of those qualms, though, _obviously_. That _was_ a pretty vicious glare.

Maureen, for her part, just looks back at him – and I’m _positive_ that she was just _this_ close to telling him he fucking deserved it, too – and states amazingly calm, “I’m a Marine, sir. We happen to serve on ships occasionally. Motion sickness tends to get in the way.”

Wow, that was a pretty good… “Did you swallow a fucking Jane Austen novel this morning, Lieutenant?” Okay, Tom didn’t think so.

“Sounded more like Patrick O’Brian to me, sir.” Huh?

“Nah, more of a C. S. Forester girl, myself, Sergeant.” What? “And _no_ lobster jokes, unless _you_ want a shiner, too.” _What_?

Why is Dee laughing like that and _what_ are they talking… “God, I hate book nerds.”

Now, that wasn’t very nice, Tom. I mean, ever since they discovered they both read those blasted Harry Potter books, Dee and Maureen can, _occasionally_ , be kind of irritating as soon as someone mentions books – really, just _any_ book is enough – but yeah, it’s not _their_ fault that you generally regard books as a waste of time. Idiot. I roll my eyes at him. “Pretty sure someone already told you that but at least _sometimes_ reading a book could…”

“Am I the only one who thinks something isn’t right about this place?” Huh?

I blink, first looking at Dee – probably for the first ever time since our ill-fated bike tour two months ago – and then at our surroundings and… he’s right. I frown. “Yeah, shouldn’t there be someone here greeting us?

“We _should_ be seeing the lab from here,” Maureen adds and… she’s right. The area around the Gate is mostly plains and the lab containers were set up only a mile’s walk from it, so we _definitely_ should be seeing _something_. Instead there’s… nothing here. Nothing except rolling plains and a couple trees in the distance.

Okay. Something went wrong here.

And finally, Tom deigns to grace us with input, as well. “Dial the Gate to Earth and hail the SGC, Lieutenant. Whatever is going on here, I’m not going anywhere until someone back home explains to me what the fuck just happened.”

Maureen, being the closest to the DHD, nods and gets up from crouching next to Dee, to dial the Gate back to the SGC. As soon as the event horizon is established, she sends our IDC code and, after hearing an unfamiliar voice – wasn’t Sergeant Harriman at the controls when we left only a couple minutes ago? – ask her to confirm her identity, she says, “Lieutenant Maureen Reece of SG10. We’re requesting assis…”

“Please state your name and unit, unidentified trespasser.” The hell?

Maureen looks back at us, frowning but Tom nods at her to try a second time. “This is First Lieutenant Maureen Reece, SG10…”

“Negative. Lieutenant Reece is not an active member of SG10. Please state your…”

“Hey, listen up buddy, I have no idea who _you_ are, but _this_ is Major Thomas Moore of SG10 and _what_ are you _doing_?” Ah, of course that would happen. Sickness always leaves Tom short-tempered and yeah, whoever that is on the other end of the wormhole, they just made his day by providing him with an outlet. At least that means he won’t take it out on any of _us_.

There’s silence from the other end for an uncomfortably long time, until the unknown voice says, “Stand-by for a MALP and following security team coming through, unidentified trespasser. Put down any weapons and await the team with your arms raised and ready to be searched.”

This is a _joke_ , right? This is some sick joke that Lorne thought up for getting back at us for playing that prank at him and his team on our last babysitter mission, right? This _has_ to be a joke.

I’m about to protest but to my astonishment, Tom actually nods at us and gestures for us to disarm, before he taps his radio. “Acknowledged. SG10 standing down and awaiting further instructions.”

Then I can see him… switching off his radio and gesturing to us to do the same. We all follow suit and he uses the time before the MALP gets through the Gate to say, “Whatever this is, I want it over without too much fuss. So let’s just do what they tell us to do, for the time being. Pretty sure we’ll still have time to step it up, after all.”

The funny thing about Tom is that ninety-eight percent of the time, you’d never guess that he’s a highly qualify Special Forces officer. Sure he’s an expert shot – fucking sniper, and I’m still not fully over discovering _that_ – and can remain unnaturally calm under fire, he knows his infiltration shit, can hack into anything even remotely resembling a computer when he feels like it… but the two percent when you _actually_ realizes that he has a past in Black Ops is when he decides, wholly against his usual character, to _do as a potential thread tells him to do_.

In the case of this particular potential thread, the first thing coming through the Gate is in fact a Mark II MALP rolling towards us. Well then. Let the fun begin.

_DeLisle_

So, at least they weren’t kidding about anything they said. The first thing they did send through was Mark II MALP and we’re all required to individually step in front of its camera and let it look at us from practically every angle – kinda glad they don’t let us do handstands, too, as gymnastics never was my biggest forte, after all – until they’re calling up the next. I’m pretty sure the Major _nearly_ flipped them the bird when it was his turn and it’s a real achievement that he didn’t. He definitely has matured a lot in the last couple years. Really, just a year ago, he’d have done it and then proceeded to simply walk through the Gate to whatever is on the other side.

Anyway, as soon as we’re done with the inspection, the security team – eight heavily armed guys in body armor I have never seen in my life, what the hell – steps through the Gate, their pulse weapons – whatever happened to ordinary assault rifles? – trained on us. I consider sharing a look with the Major but I’m pretty sure I know well enough what he must be thinking. Since, you know, I’m thinking it, too. _Something is really, really wrong here._

Before any of us get to talk to the security team, though, they move in and… _hey, what ever the fuck did I even do to you, asshole_? Why in God’s name are they yelling at us to get on our knees and are forcefully subduing _any_ resistance… and _why_ have _four_ of them singled out Maureen and are keeping all their firepower trained singularly on _her_?

“Hey! Hey guys! Stop harassing my…” Yeah, that was to be expected. Even Major Thomas Moore’s maturity only extents so far. Astonishing how often Maureen Reece is involved in cases when it has reached its limit. And of _course_ he just _has_ to get himself beaten up again. Why did I even ever invest any time in properly training him? “Would you just _stop_ that? We’re belong to the _good_ guys, okay?”

I don’t have a feeling they believe him, to be honest. The fact that the one guarding him just neatly rammed the butt of his rifle between the Major’s shoulder blades _might_ have something to do with that. And did I just hear a faint sigh from Maureen?

However, before I can risk a look to check on her, I can hear one of our guards say into his radio, “This is Fullert. The situation is under control, medical team may proceed.” _Medical_ team? What _medical_ … The event horizon ripples for a third and oh, hey, that’s a face I recognize!

Dr. Paranovsky steps down the dais, a weird unreadable expression on her face when her gaze falls on Maureen for just a moment, before she beckons one of the nurses – now, if that isn’t Lieutenant McIntyre, the nurse the Major used to date a couple months ago – over to assist her with what looks like drawing blood from all of us. This is really not becoming any less irritating.

They start with Maureen, taking a vial from her left arm and I have to admire the grace with which she bears everything. I can see that she’s both annoyed and frightened but that’s mostly because I’ve learned to read her. At least _one_ of my trainees turned out alright. I can rest easy then.

After they get her blood, I can see Lieutenant McIntyre pulling out something that looks like a portable microscope and Dr. Paranovsky turning to use it on the blood she drew. After a short examination, she moves on to Laura and then to the Major. None of them put up much of a resistance and I have a feeling that in the Major’s case it’s mostly because he’d never want to be outdone by his little Lieutenant, even after a year of working with her. I’m still not sure if his predictability in that matter is a blessing or a curse.

And then, finally, I’m the only one left to be tried on and after one last round of that strange procedure, Paranovsky nods at the guard still holding down the Major and tells him, “They’re all human. Let’s get them back to the infirmary for more conclusive tests.”

Oh. Good. _More_ tests.

And could _someone_ please talk _to_ us instead of _about_ us? Or just, you know, _stop manhandling us_? God, I should have quit the moment after Laura kissed me. I should have asked her to quit with me. At least we wouldn’t be in this mess, now. And it’s _definitely_ a really, really big mess.

Because believe it or not, I’m starting to suspect that we managed to land ourselves in some kind of alternate reality, and honestly, I could have done without _that_ particular SG team training standard situation.

Well. At least we’re moving again, so I resign myself to my fate for the time being and march up the dais towards the event horizon. It can’t get worse than this, anyway, right?


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, huh, new chapter. Kinda short and still feels like more of a transition chapter but I do have a plot, I promise! It just uh needs some coaxion to come out and play with me, I guess O_o

** Three **

_Reece_

You know, I thought I was really lucky this time. Instead of puking my guts out and being plagued by unholy headaches, that rather uncomfortable Gate ride left me nothing more than a queasy feeling for a few minutes and a bit of dizziness. I even felt pretty much vindicated at seeing the Major fighting against the aftereffects of a rocky Gate ride, and the aftereffects clearly winning. It _did_ serve him right.

But ever since we entered the SGC – not _our_ SGC, that much is plain to see now – there’s been a nasty headache building up behind my forehead and I have some real issues trying not to continuously pinch the bridge of my nose continuously. It’s getting _really_ annoying.

Right now, we’re in the briefing room above the Gate room. Before that, we spent an entire hour in the infirmary, being poked and prodded at and I’m pretty sure my left arm veins are now permanently useless for future use to draw blood. And yeah… it didn’t exactly get better.

Since we were ushered in here, the conversation mostly consisted of Major Carter, General O’Neill – apparently, he’s still commanding the SGC in this reality – and Dr. Lee arguing about how the hell we could have gotten here, without something called a quantum mirror and all that. Mostly, it’s a lot of science talk and I guess it’s the Major’s bad influence that made me want to fall asleep right in the middle of it as soon as it started.

Speaking of the Major… _why_ in _God’s_ name does this reality’s version of him _keep fucking staring at me like that_? He probably thinks that it’s all secretive and everything but that guy ceased to be unreadable for me about four weeks after I came into his team. I don’t even know how to describe the looks he keeps throwing me, just that they’re making me really uncomfortable. So… _intense_ and… I just don’t know. It started the moment we met our counterparts – or you know, the Major, Laura and Dee met theirs, seeing as _I_ am apparently _dead_ in this reality – and it never… stopped. I just…

“Lieutenant Reece?” Huh?

I resist the temptation to clear my throat. “Yes, sir?”

“Are we boring you?” Oh, good. I just caught the attention of Jack O’Neill, and not in a good way. _Again_. Good job, Lieutenant, good job.

Anyway. I guess simply telling him yes is out of the question, huh? And telling him how much _being stared at that by my CO’s doppelganger_ is fucking with me isn’t a good thing to answer either, is it? I try not to sigh. “No, sir. I uh… I just need to process all that input. Sorry, sir.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll get enough time to work through it since you’ll all be given the information you need compiled into neat little packages and we’ll call you again when there’s anything new on your situation. You’ll be confined to base until further notice. Dismissed.” Confined to base. I can already see the joy lighting up in the Major’s eyes. And by that I mean misery and malcontent.

But yeah, even this reality’s O’Neill seems to know his people well enough to raise his hand and forestall any argument from either team. “Any of you lost their hearing? SG10… SG10s, _Dismissed_.”

And yeah, immediately everyone except Carter and Lee scrambles up to leave the briefing room, both teams keeping to each other while we file out of the room. Outside the door, a pair of SFs are waiting to meet us and there’s a very weird, uncomfortable moment in which this reality’s SG10 – or what is left of it, anyway – just stare at us and we at them until the other Laura clears her throat and grabs both her Dee and Major’s sleeves to drag them with her after giving us a nod and mumbling something like “Scuse us”. And just like that, it’s only us and our SFs left in the corridor.

“Well,” the Major says after another moment of weirded out silence, “at least it’s only confined to base instead of quarters.” We all turn to give him a dead-pan look we _all_ only reserve for him and he feels compelled to add, “What? Am I the only one who could eat a fucking cow after being told there’s currently no way to get us home safely?” Another dead-pan look, mixed with raised eyebrows. “That’s what I thought. Come on, mess hall’s this way, at least in our reality.”

Right. Mess hall it is.

_Greenspan_

So. At least the mess hall is where it’s supposed to be. And hey, they serve mostly the same shit uh food that we usually get. There’s even tough as leather Solsbury steak, totally my favorite among the stuff that passes for food around here. There. Whatever. We gotta be grateful for the small things or something, I guess.

And hey, no one’s bothering us, either. Which, granted, might have something to do with the two SFs guarding the table – or, you know, _us_ – but at least they seem to discourage people from staring at us too _openly_. Well, okay, staring at _Maureen_ , because guys, we’re not _blind_. We _see_ you.

“So, was it just me or was that guy practically drilling holes into you with his eyes, Reece?” I look up from the sorry excuse of a steak on my plate to see Tom looking inquiringly at Maureen. Or, you know, _drilling holes into her_. “That guy”, my _ass_.

I can’t help it and snort, after all. “Nah, you weren’t the only one noticing your interest in Maureen.”

That makes him stop staring at her with his eyebrows raised and concentrate on me instead. Good. “Very funny, Laura.” Aw, come on. It _is_ a little funny how he looked _exactly_ like you whenever you’re trying to go for unreadable. “Anyway, did _anyone_ of you understand a _word_ of what Lee and Carter were going on about?”

We all shake our heads, various expressions of incomprehension on our faces. I wasn’t exactly an abstinent recluse at the Academy but I’m _pretty_ sure I’d have remembered taking Multidimensional Physics 101, even with a couple of alcohol-induced blackouts, especially in Third Year.

Across the table, I share a look with Dee – I should just stop doing that because every time I do, I remember how it felt kissing him and how much I’d _really, really like to repeat the fucking experience_ , no pun intended – but before either of us can say anything, Maureen beats us to it. “What, _exactly_ , is a quantum mirror, anyway?”

Huh? Oh, ahaha, yeah. I clear my throat. “I knew we forgot one part of SGC standard situations.” Incomprehension is written all across her face. Right. “Kinda forgot all the alternate reality stuff.”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” she dead-pans, “since I’m getting a total hands-on experience here. Yay.” I _saw_ you, Tom. You nearly snorted with laughter. You _like_ it when she’s all dry and dead-pan and sarcastic. “Still doesn’t explain the quantum mirror stuff.”

I’m about to tell her the scraps I remember from _my_ Introduction To SGC Standard Situations We All Really, Really Want To Avoid, Dee beats me to it. “A quantum mirror is an Ancient device to jump between alternate realities. We had one in our reality but General Hammond had it destroyed in…”

“1999, after some weird ass stuff with an alternate Carter and some guy named Kawalsky. Kinda forgot what exactly happened but ever since then, alternate reality traveling was pretty much theoretical on our end of the galaxy.” Aw, look at that. Tom actually _does_ remember _something_ from three days worth of old mission reports and anecdotes, and I really mean _three entire days_ , as in seventy-two hours. Look at what that guy can be put to, if he really wants to.

“Yeah, I totally feel very much theoretical, right now.” Maureen, it seems, really does take this whole thing personal and… oh good, on top of everything, our doubles just entered the mess hall. And… practically all conversation also ceased. What do they think is going to happen, some weird high noon last stand “There can only be one SG10 in this town” Western kind of thing or something?

Okay, uh, there _is_ one really weird moment when we each just kind of stare at each other, until the other Dee clears his throat and says, sounding eerily like _our_ Dee and totally _unlike_ our Dee, “Uh, anyone mind if we add another table and sit down?”

That, at least seems to break the tension somewhat and I get up to pull my chair to the side to…

Good _God_.

Jesus fucking _Christ_ , what in God’s name…

Pain. _Fucking pain so bad pain pain…_ _black and pain and_ …

“Easy. Doc’s coming every minute, don’t worry.” I crack open an eye, fighting against a blinding headache and looking into my own face, peering down at me from above. I blink again, trying to process what I… _she_ just said to me 

Then it hits me. Of all the things I could comment on, that _one_ thing hits me. “Aren’t _you_ a doctor?”

My other self grins at me apologetically and I realize that I must be lying on the ground, her fingers on my neck, feeling my pulse and when she shines a flashlight into my eyes, the headache’s nearly strong enough for me to miss her telling me, “Not a _real_ doc, just a paramedic, sorry to disappoint.”

“Huh,” I hear myself say, my tongue still feeling strangely heavy in my mouth, “love to hear _that_ story some day.” And then… there’s blackness again and God, am I grateful for that.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently hating my fellow humans but don't worry, that will pass. In the meantime, have a new chapter, including two of our favorite SGC women \o/

** Four **

_Moore_

You know, I actually thought I’ve had a couple rough missions before. There was one in Russia that left me with an ugly scar and a debt I can never repay, one in Bosnia that left someone else owing his life to me, one in Afghanistan… well, you get the picture. Anyway. I _swear_ , I never had an awakening as disgusting as right now.

The tongue in my mouth still feels too thick for some reason, there’s an ugly taste like bile in the back of my throat, the remnants of a sickeningly strong headache make me want to… “Sir?” And… Maureen Reece? “You awake, sir?”

Okay, that’s not so bad, actually. Especially because I’m pretty sure I could detect some real worry in her tone. That’s gotta be new. Huh.

I try to crack open an eye, seeing as I’d actually like some visual confirmation for my speculations based on her voice and oh God, fucking infirmary lights. I _hate_ those things with a passion and I can’t believe they’d really be the same stupid degree of brightness as they are in our reality. But then again, that was probably to be expected from a place where the food is as bad as it is back home.

“Sir? You okay?” Ah, right, Reece.

With some effort, I manage to crack open both eyes and sit up with a minimum degree of squinting and swearing. After another moment of my eyes adjusting to the bright lights above, my first real gaze falls on Reece, sitting on a hospital bed opposite mine, still in her uniform and obviously not affected at all, safe probably from the _real worry_ , I’m pretty sure I just saw in her eyes until she realized that I mostly regained my sight. Right. Something’s weird here.

Alright, whatever, time to test my other senses. “Yeah,” I try experimentally and it doesn’t sound so bad, after all, “mostly, I guess.”

There’s an odd gleam of relief in her eyes, before she hops off her cot and walks a couple of feet, to peer beyond the curtain they apparently used to cordon off wherever in the infirmary I am right now and a little muffled, I can hear her say, “Major Moore’s awake, ma’am.”

For some reason, I’m waiting for Laura walking through that curtain but instead it’s one Janet Fraiser, in all her Napoleonic glory. Janet Fraiser, the only doctor I ever managed to be afraid of enough to never even _think_ about questioning one of her orders. I really hope the bastards around here know how fucking lucky they are to still have her.

She walks up to my bed, one of those disgusting little flashlights in her hand. As I look past her briefly, I can see Reece standing around in the background, again with that weird worry written all over her face until she realizes that I just saw her. Reece? _What_ is going on with you? “How are you feeling, Major?”

Right, Dr. Fraiser. I shrug. “Pretty much like crap.”

It earns me one of those disapproving little pursing her lips thing that I seem to inspire in practically everyone even only loosely affiliated with health and safety specialities and… ah shit, there goes the flashlight again. Is that some trick they teach them at medical school? How to subdue your patients in five seconds and less without having to use outright force 101 or something?

“Ma’am?” Oh come on, Reece, since when have you started to _care_ about me?

Probably ever since we switched bodies but let’s all just pretend that never happened, alright? So…

“He’s fine, currently, but I’m afraid our theory just got confirmed.” Theory? Confirmed? Huh?

Reece frowns, looking decidedly unhappy. Can someone _please_ explain to me what’s going on here? “So, they’re really suffering from this entropic… cascade… failure thing?”

Entrp… oh no. Not _that_ crap. Please someone tell me it’s _not_ entropic cascade failure?

Fraiser, of course, just _has_ to nod. “Yes, every read out and lab test confirms it.”

“And I’m unaffected because in this reality, I don’t exist anymore?” Hey! Right here! I’m sitting _right_ here!

“Exactly. So…”

Okay, that’s enough. “Excuse me, _Doctor_ , but what happened to “the further away the realities are from each other, the bigger the chance of entropic cascade shit”? Did the Goa’uld take over the galaxy in this one or what?”

Before Fraiser gets to answer, the curtain flaps another time and probably _every_ SGC’s resident technobabble specialist Samantha Carter ducks inside, with the words, “No, but the replicators are still pretty close to it.” Uh, what? “It’s… a long story, Major.” Right. They probably aren’t allowed to tell us anything, anyway.

And you know what? There are a things that are a lot more important, anyway. “So where’s the rest of my team?”

Fraiser and Carter share a look that’s… relieved? Huh. Seems like they really _aren’t_ allowed to tell us more about this replicators are close to taking over the galaxy thing. Called it! “They should be waking up any minute now, Major. We’ll brief all of you together as soon as they’re ready for it.”

With that, she gives me a nod and goes on behind the next curtain while Carter and Reece stay. I’m already planning on spending the next five to a hundred-and-twenty minutes in awkward silence when there’s some movement on the other side and a pretty grumpy sounding Greenspan groan – believe it or not, she’s a worse patient than I am, even if she’ll deny it to her grave – shortly before Fraiser removes the curtain that separated our beds. And hey, look at that, Dee’s also awake. Yay for an entirely awoken team. 

Theoretically, I know I should just keep quiet. Believe it or not, most of the time, I’m absolutely aware of what I should or shouldn’t say, and _basically_ , I adhere to that. Just, you know, not _all_ the time, because that would be boring. Which is why the first thing I do upon seeing Laura waking up from probably the same seizure induced blackout that I had, is grinning at her and saying, “Morning, Greenspan. Sergeant. Hope you both feel well rested after your little nap.”

So, I guess I deserved that pen sailing past me dangerously close to eye-level but damn, it was worth it. Seriously, the only thing you can do in a situation like ours is _try_ not to let it get to you too much and that’s exactly what I’m… “Is he always like that?”

Oh, hey, look who found her way over to what is probably the current entertainment in this infirmary. Laura “Not a doctor” Greenspan. I’m pretty sure… “What, yours isn’t?”

…please someone tell me this reality’s Greenspan and my Lieutenant haven’t already become chummy, too? _Please_? “He used to be, anyway.” Huh. Did I detect a weird note of wistfulness in that? I wonder…

No. No, I don’t. I’m not wondering about whatever happened to this reality’s Reece because I’m not interested in it. But that was in another country, and besides the wench is dead and all that and please don’t tell anyone that I know a line from one of Christopher Marlowe’s plays or people will start thinking I remember anything educational besides how to hack into anything only remotely resembling a computer and expect me to behave like it.

Anyway. Not interested in what happened to this reality’s Lieutenant Reece because it won’t happen to _my_ Lieutenant Reece, whatever it was. Because _I_ am not gonna let my Lieutenant Reece die. No fucking way.

Because, you know, I have this general rule of not letting _any_ of my teammates die. It’s really as simple…

“Major?” Oh. Uh. Why is everyone looking at me like that? “You with us?”

I refrain from clearing my throat. “Of course, ma’am.” _Technically_ , Samantha Carter isn’t my superior, and this reality’s Carter even less, but yeah, a little boot licking never hurt.

Sadly, Carter still keeps throwing me one of those “Don’t try to bullshit me, idiot” looks she seems to have perfected, probably during the years of serving with intellectually underachieving male officers – like, hey, me – who all surpassed her on the fast track and then simply goes on, “So, as you’re now all awake, here’s what we have concluded from preliminary research.” Oh God, please no science babble. I still have a lingering headache and… “Since you informed us that you have no quantum mirror and told us that you started out in your reality but ended in ours after a Gate jump, we concentrated our research on anything having to do with Gate travel.” Okay, that’s pretty much a no-brainer, even for me.

But yeah, I figure it’s probably better if I keep stuff like that to myself and let Carter continue. “And, uh, we came up with nothing.” Oh _good_. That’s what highly qualified astrophysicists are here for, isn’t it? Just fucking… “Except one thing but so far, it seems more like a straw than anything.” So what? Straw’s better than nothing, isn’t it? “Just about the same time you said you entered the wormhole in your reality, one of our sensor arrays gave us some weird readings coming from the area around the planet you landed on.” Okay, weird reading meaning… “We’re not sure what it is yet because we first dismissed it as a malfunction but it gave us a point to start so we’ll keep investigating in that direction.”

And…

And? Major? What… “Uh, that’s all I have for you, sorry.”

I’m _this_ close to actually groaning – and, judging from their faces, Laura and Dee aren’t that far away from it, either and even Reece looks even more disconcerted than she already did – but this reality’s Greenspan manages to save our asses by simply saying, “Thanks, ma’am. Permission to inform the rest of my team?”

Carter just nods and Greenspan gives her a short two finger salute and us an awkward look before she ducks out of our curtained off zone. “So, if there aren’t any more questions…” We all shake our heads and it’s kinda funny to watch the mighty Samantha Carter being weirded out just a little by one of the lower echelon Gate teams. “Well, I’ll get back to work, then. I’ll let you know as soon as we made progress.”

With that, she leaves our little cozy cordon as well, so it’s just Dr. Fraiser left, who promptly tells us, “I know you’re probably not going to like it but Major Moore, Captain Greenspan and Sergeant DeLisle, you will all have to stay here for the time being.”

Aw, no. “Doctor, could you please…”

“No, Major, I can’t. We have no idea of the extent of entropic cascade failure that we are dealing with here yet, and I’m not letting any of you walk around the base when there’s the very real danger of you collapsing with a seizure at any given time.” Wow, way to give a guy some hope, Doc. Your bedside manner’s _excellent_ , in _every_ universe. That’s really…

“Ma’am, if I may ask… would it alright if I join the effort to deduct the extent of entropic cascade failure we’re dealing with here?” Right. Of course. And Dee and I are supposed to be… what? Your guinea pigs or something? Fraiser doesn’t look too happy, either and presses her lips together again but Laura seems to have found an opening for not being left _wholly_ out of the loop and adds, “I’m a medical doctor, ma’am. USAFA grad, USU med school in Bethesda, internship at Walter Reed, the whole nine yards. Scout’s honor, ma’am.”

Oh God, I can nearly _see_ how much Laura is clamoring for _something_ to do while we’re practically interned here and I swear, if Fraiser doesn’t agree with her proposal… “Fair enough, Captain. But you will be under medical supervision at any time.” Laura just nods, which shows _how_ much the thought of just sitting here and waiting for another seizure to hit is eating away at her. “As for you two: you are to stay here, _no_ buts from either of you.” Damn fucking doctors.

Pretty sure Dee just thought the same thing when we both yes ma’amed her but, like any good little soldiers just waiting for the next best opportunity to leave the infirmary, we both nod and, since she doesn’t seem to show an inclination to leave, I feel compelled to add, “Ma’am, I’d like to request a chance to speak to my team.” She nods but still doesn’t show an inclination to leave. Dammit. “ _Alone_ , ma’am?”

I’m _pretty_ sure that if I weren’t some guy from a different reality, she’d probably just busted me down a rank or two but since technically _she_ isn’t my superior in any way, she just says, “Permission granted, provided Lieutenant Reece informs the infirmary staff as soon as your condition changes.” She looks at Reece questioningly and I just now realize how much it grates on me when someone who isn’t even from our reality thinks they can order any of my subordinates around. Especially when those people from different realities all seem to have one issue or the other with the fact that _Lieutenant Maureen Reece fucking exists_.

Reece, being the good little Marine she occasionally still is, tells Fraiser, “Of course, ma’am,” and thankfully, that seems to be enough for the doc to finally leave us alone. _God_ , I can’t wait to get back home, seriously.

_DeLisle_

“Okay,” the Major says, “talk to me, guys.”

“We’re fucked.” Trust Laura to be the one saying out loud what everyone else is thinking.

“Okay, uh, thank you for your contribution, Captain.” And trust the Major to dismiss that very concise summary regarding our current situation right off the bat. “Any other insights?” Well… no. I shake my head, same as Maureen. “Thought so.” So… “Now what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t that kinda… _your_ job?” Oh, not that again. Not the whole “It’s _your_ job to get us out of here” – “Shut up and do something productive for a change, Greenspan” thing again. Like, every other mission they get into that debate and it’s starting to get on my…

“Sure is. But can’t a guy ask for help sometimes?” Okay, who is that and what did they do with Major Thomas Moore? Because _that_ is not what his reaction to “Isn’t that _your_ job?” is supposed to be. “Come on, throw me a bone here.”

Right. I guess he deserves _someone_ giving him a _little_ more than just “We’re fucked.” I guess this is where I come in. “First rule’s probably not to antagonize the locals.”

That makes the Major and Laura snort and even Maureen – even quieter than she usually is, ever since we came here – give me a short slightly rueful grin. “Alright,” the Major tells me after the amusement died down, “very funny, Sergeant, I’ll give you that. Other bones to throw from the lot of you?”

I’m slowly starting to realize that he isn’t just doing this because he’s out of ideas – which he, despite everything, totally is – but also to gauge the mood among the time. _And_ to lift said mood. Smart move, sir.

Laura tries her luck again. “I’ll work with the medical personnel here, see if I can wheedle out more about what’s going on outside the compound of them.”

He nods at her, almost appreciatively. “Okay, fair enough. Dee?”

Ah, fuck. “I’ll keep you entertained, sir?”

That makes him roll his eyes. “Ah, great, first Reece swallows a Whatshisname book, then you swallow a clown.” What? _Someone_ needs to do that and since it’s always been my job, anyway… “Kid?”

She perks up and was she lost in her thoughts _again_? That’s _not_ her standard performance. “Sir?”

He seems to have noticed it too, narrowing his eyes just for a moment and probably _dying_ to comment on it but for some weird reason he just leaves it at, “I want you to work as a liaison to the personnel outside the infirmary. Not just Carter and O’Neill, the lower echelon guys, as well. Enlisted, junior officers, you know what I mean. Talk to them, and, even more important, _listen_ to them, that kinda thing.”

She nods. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” Apparently, acting as what is essentially spying doesn’t seem to bother her as much as I thought it would. Huh.

“And I want you to be our go between with the other SG10.” Well, that makes sense.

Only, strangely, Maureen doesn’t think so. At _all_. “Sir, I’d rather not… I don’t think…”

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Lieutenant.” Right. I guess by now he finally has gotten to know her well enough to know that the only way to forestall an argument from her is to order her to do something. Guess that’s the Marine in her.

I can see her literally swallowing down whatever she was prepared to give him back and instead only going with, “Understood, sir.” The Major nods and looks as if he’s going to add something but she beats him to it. “Permission to retreat to my quarters, sir?”

 _What_ is going on with her? It’s like ever since we came here, she’s been thrown back an entire year. It’s like she hasn’t been on this team for a year and displayed a surprising amount of stubbornness and resistance against the Major. It’s as if she slipped right back into her Mouse mode from a year ago. I wonder if the Major… “Permission granted, Lieutenant.” Huh, maybe he has. Just when she nods and turns to duck out of the curtain around our infirmary space, he tells her, sounding weirdly _caring_ , “And try not to forget to eat again and get some sleep, Kid.”

I mean, okay, he actually sounded a little grumpy but there was a weird undertone suggesting that he was just doing that to cover up that he _worries_ about her. I throw Laura a quick glance and she sure as hell heard it as well.

Even Maureen must have heard it, judging from the way she pauses for a tiny moment and a little smile creeps on her face before she nods, gives him a “Yes, sir,” and ducks out of our cordoned off area.

Okay. One, two… “Is it just me or is something really bothering her?” Yeah, well, you nailed it, Laura.

I’m about to tell her so but the Major just growls, “Sure as hell was those stares that idiot was throwing over to her in the briefing room. Gonna have a word with him as soon as he shows his stupid face here.”

Sharing a look with Laura again and oh God, she’s _dying_ to tell him that it’s _his_ stupid face as well but in a probably gigantic feat of self-control, she manages to say, “You know, maybe it’s also the fact that she’s _dead_ in this reality? Feels weird, doesn’t it?”

It does, actually. I risk a look at the Major, see if I can gauge his feelings on the subject _now_ – when they first told us that, he’d managed a pretty good poker face – and he doesn’t disappoint. It’s very short and nearly invisible but I can see clearly that he’s not as casual about the whole thing as his answer suggests, “Well, _she_ ’s not dead, so there’s no reason to freak out about it.” And with that… the topic seems to be close for him since the next thing says is, “Okay, so… anyone got a deck of cards with them? Otherwise, I’m probably gonna die of fucking boredom in this hole.”

Oh God, I swear I didn’t want to laugh but I just can’t help snorting and grinning and yeah, I guess he’s right. For once, there’s nothing either he or I can do and I’d really rather lose at poker to keep him occupied than having to deal with whatever mess he’ll fabricate if we ignore him. Which, I guess, means trying to dig up a deck of cards here somewhere. So, let’s see about that.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know I took my time with this but since I'm finally done with the first draft of the Paper From Hell and could tear myself away from my new favorite toy, Pinterest, I have a brand new chapter for you! Not convinced by it but I'll leave it to you to judge it :)
> 
> PS.: In case not everyone has seen it yet *sighs there's a [Pinterest board](http://www.pinterest.com/gilatier/military-madness-es-war-einmal-in-vietnam/) for my _Military Madness_ Vietnam War AU stories now, containing pictures of story relevant air craft, places and character portraits.

** Five **

_Reece_

Whatever it is, this whole compound isn’t good for any of us. Maybe it’s something in the air or whatever but something’s really messing with us. Or, at least, it’s sure as hell messing with _me_. Ever since stumbling in here, I can’t shake the feeling of being slightly out of phase, as if I’m not really here and I guess that’s exactly what’s going on.

Not, you know, in anything that manifests physically are whatever you’d want to call it but… okay, I’m becoming esoteric here. Just, that’s what it feels like and it’s making me _insane_. Okay, that and… being accompanied _everywhere_ by a pair of stoically silent SFs and a trail of barely veiled curious glances along the way. I’ve been here for less than twelve hours and all I really want is to go _home_.

And all, you know, _all_ Major Carter told us was “We basically got nothing” and if not even _Samantha Carter_ has any idea how to get you home, you’re really, really fucked.

Okay, I guess there’s no use in dwelling on it and yeah, like my mom used to say, when in doubt, sleep on it. So, after finally getting something to eat, I decide to head for the temporary quarters they assigned me here and try Mom’s remedy for everything. Maybe it’ll work _this_ time.

Or _maybe_ I’ll just go to the roots of this and ask Major Carter if “feeling out of phase” is even scientifically possible.

Mh. That _definitely_ sounds like the better plan of the two. I stop and my accompanying SFs stop in the exact same moments. What are they, fucking replicators? I resist the temptation to clear my throat and summon my inner US Marine. “Sergeant, change of plans. Where can I find Major Carter’s lab?”

I’m pretty sure I just saw the guy blink before answering, “Down the corridor, third door to the left, ma’am,” and it’s probably the Major’s fault how much I just enjoyed trolling the most stoic SF I ever encountered.

And hey, I’m not even finished yet. I try Laura’s patented expecting look. When there’s no reaction except a very slight frown, I add, just this side of impatient, “What’s the hold up, Sergeant? Let’s go.”

I’m _pretty_ sure he just wanted to tell me in no uncertain terms where I can shove that order but if I have learned _anything_ in a year on SG10, it’s that the brazen will inherit the fucking earth, so I get over myself and take the first step towards Major Carter’s lab… and for some reason, that actually helps to completely feel like myself, if only for a very brief moment. Or maybe just to give me at least an illusion of control, whatever floats your boat.

Anyway, the point is, we’re making headway to Major Carter’s lab and I finally have a purpose besides playing spy for my team here. I don’t actually _mind_ being a spy, since gathering intel seems to be crucial in our current situation but yeah… I like doing something productive more, at the moment. Minimum outcome is, it’ll help me stay distracted long enough that I can focus on _something_ else besides feeling out of phase and like the curiosity of the week, maximum outcome is finally _getting_ somewhere.

When I reach her lab, the door is open and I can see her with her head down over a laptop and furiously typing, backspacing and typing again and it’s really ridiculous how I only now remember that in the year I have been serving at the SGC, I haven’t exchanged three words with _our_ Samantha Carter. Nope, for me Samantha Carter was like some fabled celebrity, so huge and ultra-smart and ultra-dedicated and ultra-competent that it felt as if she weren’t even real. Closer to a unicorn than to a fellow officer and all that.

 _What_ in God’s name made me even _consider_ talking to her on a one on one basis, even if it’s “only” another her in some other reality? What am I even doing… ah, shit, she got up from her laptop, to use the blackboard behind her and just saw me lurking in her doorway. “Oh, Lieutenant, didn’t see you there. Anything I can do for you?” Right.

I try not to pull a face and instead answer, “As a matter of fact, yes, I was hoping that maybe you could help me with something, ma’am.”

She smiles and looks inquisitively at me. “Alright. I seem to be stuck here anyway, so… come in.”

Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on _that_. Actually, I’d fully expected her to tell me that she’s busy figuring out how to get us home and could I please bother someone else with my questions? And then she goes and gives me that kind of perky smile and asks me inside. If I hadn’t known it before, this would be the moment when I realize that yes, this _definitely_ is an alternate reality.

Not that our Carter doesn’t seem to be a perfectly nice kind of person but the chances of us ever being in the same room like right now are probably microscopically small. And no, I’m totally not fangirling over a woman I don’t even know.

Anyway, I do take a step inside immediately being followed by my escort. Who gets succinctly waved off by Carter, accompanied by the words, “That’ll be all for now, Sergeant. You can wait outside, it’s alright.” Behind me, I can hear both of them turning on their heels and exiting the room and Carter gestures at me, telling me, “Would you please leave the door ajar, Lieutenant? Seems like everyone’s getting really busy today and well, you know how it is.”

I do, actually and the more Major Carter turns out to be a decent and completely normal human being, the more I feel compelled to act extra correctly, doing everything the way it’s expected of Marines and all that. It’s starting to make me uncomfortable how friendly she is and I’m kind of glad that I hopefully won’t ever be in a position to meet our Carter like this. I’d probably die of excitement asphyxiation or something.

Okay, less fangirling, more professional behavior. I do as she tells me and when she offers me a seat next to her, I’m doing really well to pretend that I’m doing this every day of the week and twice on Sundays. “Alright,” she says after I sit down, “what’s your issue, Lieutenant?”

Great. Now I have to find a way to telling her about something that seems borderline psychotic without appearing to be borderline psychotic. Good job, Lieutenant. You’re really doing great, so far. “I, uh…” I clear my throat. I don’t think I ever sounded as squeaky as that, not even when I was around Major Moore during my first months on the team, “I don’t know if you’re even the right person to ask this,” go on, Reece. Make a mess of yourself in front of Samantha Carter, why don’t you. “I just… keep having this feeling as if I’m slightly… slightly out of phase.” Not trusting myself, I can’t even look her in the eye. “Does that even make sense, ma’am?”

She doesn’t answer right away, takes her time. Frowning, she then says, “Yes, it does. Might be psychologically motivated,” aka I’m a nutcase, “or it might be some kind of echo from this reality’s Lieutenant Reece’s presence, possibly because it’s only been three weeks since she died.”

…aka I might _not_ be a nutcase? Huh. I frown. “Is that even possible, ma’am?”

Carter shrugs. “Might be. I can’t remember there being much research about cases like yours since entropic cascade failure in people with still living counterparts is much more common but I wouldn’t put it beyond impossible that because your counterpart hasn’t been dead for very long, there might be certain remnants of her presence, possibly in molecular form, lingering on that cause a very, very mild form of entropic cascade failure that leads to you experiencing what you described as feeling “out of phase”.”

Uh, what? Oh wait, maybe I got it. “In other words… I’m being haunted, ma’am?”

It makes her crack a very small smile – I wasn’t trying to be amusing, just putting it into words a humanities major can understand, okay? – but she nods. “That’s a more poetic way to explain it but yes, that’s essentially correct.”

It’s my turn to shrug now. “I’m a linguist, ma’am. “Essentially correct” translations of concepts that are difficult to translate are my specialty.”

Her answer’s a small chuckle and a grin. “So, anything else I can help you with?”

The first thing coming into my head was to tell her no and be on my merry way to a bed and a few hours of staring at a very familiar unfamiliar ceiling but then again… there _is_ one thing that caught my attention during the briefing in the infirmary. “Well, yes, ma’am.” She throws me a “do go on” look and I comply. “I was wondering… what was that straw you spoke of in the infirmary? Those sensor readings you’d initially classified as a malfunction?”

“Ah,” she makes and then presses her lips together, before going on, “we’re still not sure if we shouldn’t continue classifying them as a malfunction since the likelihood of this being genuine is not exactly high.” That wasn’t my question, though. “Since if we _don’t_ classify it as a sensor malfunction, everything points to it having been a gamma impulse.” Yes… so?

She just looks at me as if that explains everything. Which it doesn’t. That’s not _really_ helpful, ma’am. I try not to sigh _and_ not to sound too stupid as I ask, “What exactly is a gamma impulse, ma’am?”

Now there’s a moment of surprise on her face and then just a _bit_ of embarrassment when she realizes that she just expected me to know something no linguist program in the entire _world_ teaches. She needs another moment and I just _bet_ she’s furiously trying to dumb it down for someone who never saw a college physics lab from the inside. Then, “It’s basically… it’s an energy peak, a… _gigantic_ energy peak, happening somewhere in the universe.”

 _Right_. That… That _is_ actually helpful. I’m starting to have an idea. But yeah, I really need check a couple things first so as not to embarrass myself in front of Her Astrophicistness herself. I honestly can’t imagine a great many other things that would be worse. I clear my throat. “ _How_ gigantic, ma’am?”

That makes her grin and I can _see_ her nearly starting for the blackboard, probably to write down every equation needed for calculating how big of a boom could produce whatever a gamma impulse is. “Really enormously, ridiculously… Big enough to cross into a different universe.” …really? “Was that what you were asking?”

Huh. “Yeah, I uh…”

Her grin grows bigger and now she does jump up and walks over to the blackboard, erasing everything she put on it before while talking. “Well, that makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is what could produce an energy spike of _that_ magnitude?”

Expectantly, she looks at me and I feel myself blushing. Hopefully, this Samantha Carter isn’t the kind of person to make the “Isn’t blushing against the regs for Marines?” joke I have heard a _thousand_ times by now. “I’m not sure, ma’am. I, uh…”

“What were the scientists on the planet you were supposed to go to trying?”

I’m _pretty_ sure I’m not supposed to tell her that, since the Major very successfully managed to skip that question every time it seemed to come up in our initial briefing here. But then again… science! Also, you know, _getting us all home_. “Charging a nearly depleted ZPM, ma’am.”

She frowns. “ZPM as in… Zero Point Module?”

Wait, they don’t have any of those here? Oh God, maybe I shouldn’t have told her that, after all? I just wish _someone_ would have properly briefed me on alternate realities travel etiquette.

Yeah, well. I couldn’t turn back now, even if I wanted to, so all I do is nod and tell her, “Yes, ma’am.”

Incredulity written all over her face, she seems to swallow and then gets a weird kind of glimmer in her eyes. Uh-oh. “You… you have a device that can actually harness Zero point energy?”

Oh God, oh God, I _really_ shouldn’t have told her about the ZPM. At least an alternate reality isn’t time travelling or I’d be _really_ fucked now. I clear my throat again. Might as well tell her the whole thing, since I’m probably dead now, anyway. “More or less, ma’am. But most of those we found were depleted or nearly depleted.”

She nods a little absentmindedly and remarks, “Makes sense to try and recharge one.”

Yeah, well, there’s just one tiny thing, though. “Your counterpart in our reality said the probability that it would work is…”

“Nearly zero, yes, I think so, too.” Apparently, some things never change. That’s kinda comforting to know. “ _But_ if they were trying to prove her wrong and then something went wrong and they…”

“Overloaded it?” Why did I just say that? Why do I keep embarrassing myself in front of senior officers? “Is that even possible, ma’am?”

“Yes…” she says, nodding slowly but then her face… it just kinda lights up. _What_ is it now? “Lieutenant, you’re brilliant.”

I… am?

No, haha, wait, nope, I’m not. I’m _definitely_ not. “No, look, ma’am, I’m just a linguist and… all I thought was that if ZPMs are basically considered batteries, the worst thing you could probably do to one was overload it.”

She’s positively _beaming_ at me now. “Correct deduction, Lieutenant. You probably just saved your team’s lives. You _are_ brilliant.”

Didn’t I _just_ tell you the opposite of that? “No, I’m… I just…”

“Never mind.” Not? Okay, uh… “I think I have an idea how to get you home.” Wait, you do? “And that’s thanks to _you_.” It is?

“Well, I… uh… glad to help, ma’am?” I’m really not sure what this is all about but… Samantha Carter just called me brilliant. Even if it’s not true, it’s gotta be worth _something_ , right?

She’s still beaming and it’s starting to get disconcerting. But then again, I do recognize that look. Every linguist worth their salt who ever solved a particularly trying language puzzle looks _exactly_ like that, no joke. Or okay, at least I probably do. Gotta ask Laura… “Good job, Lieutenant. Let me just make a few calculations and then call General O’Neill.”

With that, she turns around, starting to write down symbols and letters and alarmingly few numbers on the blackboard and just when I decided that it’s probably better to leave since she’ll have forgotten about me ever having been here in the next five minutes, she turns back and starts explaining whatever is on there and I don’t understand a thing except, “We’re going to get you home, Lieutenant, I promise,” but yeah, that’s enough for now. Thank God.

_Greenspan_

You know what would really help? What would really, really help?

Aside from _not_ being stuck in an alternate reality and periodically suffering from seizures, I mean.

Anyway, it _would_ really help if people would actually, you know, _let me help_. But instead of letting me analyze our EEG results, CT results or at least fucking _blood work_ , they’re having me read my way through this SGC’s rather scant collection on entropic cascade failure related symptoms. On paper. In a windowless room. I’m fucking _going up the fucking walls_. This is exactly why I volunteered to help. So I _wouldn’t be doing that_.

Okay, I need to calm down. Jumping at anyone’s throat won’t get anyone anywhere and I just really need to focus. I’m good at focusing. Put myself all through the clusterfuck my domestic situation was when I was ten and high school and the Academy and med school by focusing. Deployment, testing out of Regular Air Force, SGC training to get cleared for going off-world, focus, focus, focus. Focus on the right things, the good things, the things I want. I’m good at that.

Except, you know, when all I’m allowed to do is sit around _reading goddamn useless papers_.

Alright, this is getting me nowhere. I really should… “Going stir-crazy, ma’am?”

I really should remember that I’m still in a potentially hostile situation and that letting down my guard might equal fatal failure. But yeah, thank God right now only this reality’s Erin McIntyre snuck neatly past my situational awareness. I lean back and allow myself to massage the bridge of my nose. “Maybe.”

She snorts and reminds me way too much of the Erin McIntyre I usually work with. Honestly, if things aren’t that much different here, why are three quarters of my team being fucked over by the physics powers that be? “You could join them,” she adds to her snort and jerks her head towards where Tom and Dee are playing another round of the most pointless poker game that was ever played.

After following her jerk and watching the two of them – even after over a year of seeing them working together it’s weird to see how attuned they are to each other, hard to imagine there’s anything they _don’t_ know about each other – and contemplating to join them after all for at least a full minute, I just shake my head. So close to Dee in a secluded environment, even on duty, while Tom who’s probably starting to catch on to whatever’s lingering between our Sergeant and me is close by? “Not… that much of a good idea, Lieutenant.”

That takes her a little aback and I just _bet_ she’s not allowed to say anything but can’t help herself anyway because she more or less blurts out, “Oh, you got trouble with your guys? I know the Cap and Sarge have something…” and then trails off, her blush painfully visible under the harsh infirmary lights.

And damn, for a moment I’m tempted to dig deeper into what “the Cap and Sarge” – I presume she means my counterpart in this reality, and Dee’s – are having, seeing as that would be _another_ similarity between our two universes. But yeah, they way she blushed, she’s not gonna reveal anything else about whatever’s going on between “the Cap and Sarge”. I try not to sigh. “And you can’t elaborate on that, I know.”

She shrugs, shaking her head a little apologetically. “Wouldn’t be fair to talk about them behind their backs.” Mh, yeah, and that is that.

Okay, maybe… a different road? “I also promised I’d do my share of work to Dr. Fraiser so… that’s what I’m doing here.” Or rather trying to but she doesn’t need to hear that. She probably already gathered from observing me as she sure as hell was supposed to do on Fraiser’s orders, anyway.

“Making any headway, ma’am?” Not a question I wanted to hear.

I shake my head. “None, at _all_. That’s a new one, even for me.” Since usually research gets me _some_ where at least, even if it mostly consists of staring at lab results and swearing loudly until sudden inspiration hits me. “Everything here says that entropic cascade failure is supposed to increase the farther the two realities are _away_ from each other. But everything I learn here suggests that aside from a few dissonances, things seem pretty much the same here.”

Come on, take the bait, it’s there, right in front of… “So… you’re also still battling the replicators and are one step away from disclosing the program to the pub… shit.”

Right. _Goddammit_ , I’m good. “You weren’t supposed to tell me that, either, huh?”

She shakes her head, actually going as far as rubbing a hand over her face in embarrassment before mentally shaking herself and probably prepping herself to get a grip on herself. I’m almost sorry. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I just… please tell me that you’ve been through the same kind of Black Ops training shit the Cap claims to have gone through.” Interesting that “getting a grip on herself” included “abandoning all caution” with this Lieutenant. Then again, Erin was always a bit too forthright when put under enough pressure.

And seriously, _Black Ops training_? No fucking way in hell. Unless restrictions on women in combat specialties aren’t a thing here as well, my counterpart _must_ have been bragging. Black Ops, my fucking _ass_. “No, sorry, no Black Ops training for me.” At least none outside the SGC, and everything I got inside the SGC was directed solely by Tom and Dee when they started giving us more and more assignments demanding skills they don’t teach you in Regular Air Force units. But yeah, I didn’t need any Black Ops training for wheedling those few bits she gave me out of her, anyway. I just used to have three older brothers, until I stopped talking to even the last of them when I was fourteen. Some skills, a girl never forgets.

No use in telling her that or wheedling her for more, though. So, not wanting to put her through revealing even more crucial stuff, I try to go a different road. “So, what’s your connection to the team?”

She shrugs. “I’m friends with the Cap. On my first week here, we had two foothold situations and I wouldn’t have survived the second one if it hadn’t been for her. We work together occasionally, usually doing the combat medicine orientation for the newbies and the refresher courses for the perms.”

Hey… that’s not such a bad idea, actually. Okay, so my original background isn’t in emergency medicine but yeah, I got plenty of experience in the last year and I remember our reality’s Erin McIntyre to be a decent nurse, fearless in combat situations and not so bad with teaching. Weird that I didn’t get that idea long ago. “Sounds nice. What about the rest of them?” Yes, okay, I admit it. I want to know if she was stupid enough to date Tom, too. Seriously, I totally appreciate Erin McIntyre as a professional and as a person but _God_ , what had she been thinking when she agreed to going out with _Tom_? “Have you ever… you know…”

I’ve even stooped low enough to throw a telling look towards Tom and she follows it, frowning… and then immediately shuddering. “ _God_ , no! Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice enough guy but… no. Nuh-uh.” Right. So that’s probably the one big difference – you know, aside from the fact that _the Stargate program is about to go public here_ , for whatever reason – and… “’Side from that, no one with eyes in their heads would even try it.” Okay, he’s an idiot but he isn’t exactly _ugly_? “Everyone could see that he was head over heels…”

“Okay, everyone to attention, there’s some share worthy news!” Rrright. _Just_ when she was about to reveal whoever was this reality’s Tom’s newest object of desire, alternate Carter decides to crash the party, apparently Maureen in tow and… General O’Neill. _And_ this reality’s SG10.

Alright… what is going on here?

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, uh, took me a little while this time but yeah, here's the next one. Uh... have fun?

** Six **

_DeLisle_

Share-worthy news, huh? Yeah, well, anything is better than having to cheat and letting the Major win another mostly useless poker game. Okay, it’s not like I had to cheat during _every_ game but I had to keep the score even and that’s pretty hard if the Major’s so obviously somewhere else with his thoughts. It’s not often that it happens but I can still spot it from a hundred yards away. And right up until Major Carter came into the infirmary with Maureen, General O’Neill and our counterparts in tow, he’d been broadcasting boredom as if he were a lighthouse in a clear summer night.

It’s kinda stupid how proud I am of him for how fast he switches from genuine and annoying as hell boredom to professional alertness.

Ah, and there’s Laura, back from the shed they parked her in to… do whatever doctors do to research with nothing but paper and Lieutenant McIntyre in tow. I can’t resist throwing the Major a look to see how he reacts but he seems to be fully intend on hearing whatever Major Carter has to tell us. Okay. Well.

“So,” I hear Carter tell us cheerfully, “you should consider your Lieutenant for promotion, Major. She’s pretty smart for a Marine.”

Uh, what?

Okay, several things. First, why is Maureen blushing and trying to fade into the background behind Carter, two, that was probably not a good thing to say for Carter, judging from the look on the alternate Major Moore’s face – some weird thing between dark, moody, and pained – and three, what exactly _does_ Carter mean?

“Yeah, occasionally she happens to be, Major. So?” And _that_ wasn’t a good thing to say for the Major, since now both Maureen and his counterpart are glaring at him. Maureen, I can understand – let’s just be honest here, on this team, the girls are definitely the smart ones – but alternate Moore looking like he’s going to go for the Major’s jugular any moment? That’s weird.

“So she gave me an idea how to get you home.” Ah. That explains Maureen’s attempts at melting into the wall.

“Which… would be?” Sir, I don’t think it’s a good idea to get all pissy at Carter. O’Neill doesn’t seem to take well to that, and neither do our alternate versions.

Or, you know, Carter. “Patience, young padawan.” Now Maureen looks like she needs a little timeout because she’s dying with suppressed laughter. And quite frankly, I could use that timeout, as well. I honestly can’t remember anyone ever telling the Major to fucking go and take the backseat so casually as Carter just did. And I haven’t ever seen him so taken aback with it. Funniest thing I saw all day, I swear to God.

Intriguingly, both Laura and her alternate self seem to think the same. Huh, that is… “Come on, Carter, ignore the padawan and get to the point. And in English, please?”

I honestly wonder if there is any reality in which Samantha Carter ever snapped at constantly being reminded to dumb stuff down. “Certainly, sir.” So, this one probably isn’t going to be the one in question, but she seems to be awfully close to it. Huh. “Okay, after a conversation I had with Lieutenant Reece, I have a pretty safe theory of how to get you all home.” Well, that’s good, isn’t it? And please do _not_ interrupt her with asking her to define “pretty safe”, sir? “Basically, what we need to do is reverse the event chain from the point you landed in our universe back to your point of origin.”

Okay, that doesn’t sound too complicated. Yet, anyway. Both my team and the alternate versions seem to share my skepticism. Good to know. “According to Lieutenant Reece’s information, your original destination was most probably destroyed in a gamma impulse caused by an attempt at recharging a ZPM backfiring,” cue the Major throwing Maureen a dark stare and Maureen raising her hands in a apologetic gesture, while alternate Moore stares darkly at both of them and really, what _is_ it with that guy and Maureen, “which appears, to me, to be the focal point in the deviation of your original course.”

“Okay… uh, wait a minute, just a recap to see if I got everything right.” Goddammit, sir. No more interrupting Major Carter, _please_. I honestly don’t want to scrape your charred remains off the wall after General O’Neill and Major Carter both had their go with laser eyes or something at you. “Crazy scientists tried to do something that, according to our Major Carter, doesn’t even work, crazy scientists blow up a planet and probably parts of the space time continuum or something, crazy scientists got us stranded here and you want to… _duplicate_ that?”

Honestly, for a guy who loves playing dumb so much he puts even our version of General Jack O’Neill to shame, the Major’s pretty smart. I mean, I always knew that, it just always throws me off completely when he _doesn’t_ try to hide it. Carter, for her part, seems to think the same because for a moment, she even lets herself slip enough to give him an appreciating look. Which, in turn seems to make both Lauras want to break out laughing again. Good Lord. “That’s pretty accurate, yes. Aside from the space time continuum thing because it really doesn’t work that way, more like…”

“Carter.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Well, that was impressive. I once had the great fortune to witness our O’Neill trying to get our Carter back on track and it was nothing as succinct as that right now. Newfound respect for the Old Man here. “So, yes, that’s exactly what we need to do to get you back to your original universe.”

There’s a moment of silence and I’m _pretty_ sure that _both_ Major Moores are _this_ close to blurting out something about this being an absolutely crappy plan but apparently, Laura saw it, too because she beats both of them to it with a very calm, “What are the odds of this actually working, ma’am?”

Oh, good, I nearly quoted Han Solo without even thinking about it and from the very short look she just threw me, she damn well knew that. Shouldn’t have let her rope the Major and me into a Star Wars marathon the week after she became a permanent team meeting. She’s goddamn _evil_.

Carter, for her part… “Well, according to my calculations, it’s not impossible.”

 _Very_ diplomatic answer. I clear my throat. “But the chances aren’t exactly great, either, ma’am?”

She makes a face. “No plan is completely foolproof, Sergeant.” Yeah, okay, true. I honestly can’t remember _any_ plan _ever_ surviving past the first seconds of hard contact. “But it’s the best one we have. Acquire a ZPM, set up a remotely controlled failed recharging, send you through the Gate at the right moment… mostly, it’s a question of timing.”

Right, okay… “So, when you say “acquire a ZPM”, please don’t tell me that you don’t actually _have_ one.” Ah, good, Major Moore asking the one question everyone else in this room didn’t want to hear.

“Well…”

_Moore_

It’s a dumb plan. One of the dumbest I ever heard.

So, naturally, it’s exactly the plan we get. We only always get the really dumb plans. Just fucking great. And Carter just evading my question about not having a ZPM here isn’t making it any better. We’re fucked three ways from Sunday. Of _course_ we’re fucked three ways from Sunday. We’re… “We don’t have one. But, thanks to the rather impressive memory of your Lieutenant, we know where to find one.”

Oh goody, Reece told them where to find a ZPM. After telling Carter _way_ too much about our mission objective, she also told them where to find a ZPM. Which is classified knowledge. _Which_ , most probably, also pertains to alternate realities.

And which, unfortunately, I can’t even kick her ass for, since it seems to be part of the only plan they have on how to get us back. God, I hate it when she makes the right decisions without consulting with me first. I get up and ignore the woozy feeling building up behind my eyes. “Alright, so let’s go get that damn thing.”

“ _You_ won’t be going anywhere.” Oh great, it speaks! And oh God, is it creepy to hear my counterpart say that in the exact same voice and tone _I_ would have said it.

Also, who the hell does he think he is, huh? “Hey, you don’t have any right to…”

“Major Moore is right… Major. You and your team will not go anywhere for the time being, Dr. Fraiser’s orders.” Oh not that again, sir. I’m fine, we’re all fine, just a bit of a constant headache and feeling dizzy now and then and… “No, whatever you wanted to say, I don’t want to hear it. The planet in question is in Replicator territory and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let anyone who isn’t fully cleared to go off-world go near that.”

Replicator territory. The goddamn ZPM, the one the entire plan hinges on, is in _Replicator territory_? We’ll never fucking gonna get home. Did I mention that we’re fucked three ways from Sunday? “Luckily, SG10 here volunteered for a retrieval mission.” Huh? We didn’t… oh, wait. That _other_ SG10. Right. _Great_. “Don’t worry, Major, it’s not their first rodeo.” Haha, _funny_ , Carter. “Oh, and Lieutenant Reece volunteered, too.” Hahahaha, even funnier! Last time I checked, they didn’t _have_ a Lieutenant Reece and…

Oh. Oh no. Haha, _no way_. “Absolutely fucking not.”

And now I finally know why Reece kept trying to melt into the background all the time. That wasn’t due to modesty – which she also possesses, yes, yes – it was _shame_. She fucking felt ashamed of volunteering without my permission and she goddamn _should_. She should _not_ be saying, “I know I should have asked your permission first and…”

“Damn right you should have.” There’s _no_ reason for _everyone_ in this goddamn room staring at me as if I just kicked a helpless little puppy. She’s a _Marine_ , for fuck’s sake. She can handle a fucking justified reproach. “And in case you were going to do so now: permission denied, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, it makes sense.” Apparently, she also has finally acquired a Marine’s complete lack of an instinct for self-preservation. “I…”

“I said _no_ , Lieutenant.” Is that really so hard to understand?

“But think about it, sir.” Hey, which part of no didn’t you _get_ , Lieutenant? “I read and write Ancient and I have the gene.”

Oh, as if _that_ is making it any… Wait. “…what?”

“I’m… an ATA gene carrier, sir.” She… what? “I got tested two months ago, like the rest of us and I tested positive for a natural ATA gene expression. I… it’s in my service jacket, sir. Pretty sure that it’s in there.”

She… got tested. Two months ago. I mean we all did. And all tests came back negative. Didn’t they? Didn’t… for the life of me, I can’t remember seeing anything in her records indicating that her test _didn’t_ come back negative and… why didn’t anyone _tell_ me that? Why didn’t anyone tell me that my linguist actually practically qualifies a hundred percent for the stupid Atlantis Expedition? At least, if I had known, Gutierrez bothering me with “could you please talk to her, as her superior, it would be a real chance for her, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to her to miss that kind of career boost, huh?” would have made a _lot_ more sense and… why is everyone still staring at me?

Oh, right. Reece volunteering for that suicide mission. Like hell she’ll get my permission for _that_. Also, “Did you know about that, Laura?” Why am I even asking, of course she did. She’s Reece’s fucking doctor. “Dee?” Don’t look at me all innocent, Sergeant, I _know_ you’ve become chummy with her, even being on first name basis with her and everything. “Did _you_ know about that?” Wait, why am I even asking our counterparts? They sure as hell didn’t know anything, with their Reece being _dead_ and everything. Anyway, “Why in God’s name doesn’t anyone but yourself know _that you have that freaky gene, Lieutenant_?”

Seriously, why didn’t she tell me? I’m her goddamn superior, I should _know_ stuff like that and… “Alright, Tom, let’s take this outside.”

Hey! _Hey_! No dragging me off by the scruff of my t-shirt’s neck, Laura! No… oh God, she means business. Aw, _fuck_.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that went way faster than I anticipated O_o Also, it's the first chapter I actually feel comfortable about, even though there's not a lot happening in the sense of plot. But man... are there things happening in there. It took a bit of an unexptected turn at some point (let's see if you can spot that point *coughs) but yeah... I actually like this one. Huh. Figure that.

**Seven**

_Greenspan_

I don't know whether it's the constant niggling of another entropic cascade failure seizure waiting just around the corner or the already present tension inside the team amplified by the sheer absurdity of being caught in an alternate reality but I am just really, really done with Tom's bullshit. Enough to shit on proper military conduct and just haul his ass out of there to knock some fucking _sense_ back into his head.

Interestingly, no one even tried to stop me. That does speak volumes about me not being the only one being fed up with Tom right now, doesn't it?

Anyway… I managed to drag him off far away enough to no one should be able to hear us. We're in another windowless broom closet, this one apparently serving as an actual storage closet, and I'm still pissed off enough that I need a moment to get myself together before speaking up. At least I'm faster than Tom, or I honestly wouldn't have been able to guarantee him leaving this room without any physical harm. "Okay, moron, what the fuck just got _into_ you?"

"Will you _knock it off_?" Only if _you_ knock it the fuck off, whatever's got your panties in a twist? "I'm still your fucking superior officer and…"

"And you're being an utter moron." Saying that in calm, matter-of-fact tone instead of just shouting it back at him honestly was one of the hardest things I ever accomplished.

Not that he appreciates any of that, though. " _Watch_ it, _Captain_!"

Okay, that's enough. I jab my index finger into his chest. "No, _you_ watch it. You just _lost_ it in there, in front of everyone and their fucking mother, after a _very_ reasonable and logical request from one of your subordinates." No, uh-uh, you're _not_ going to stop me from saying my piece now, no fucking way. "You asshole basically went ballistic at her over something _that was right there in her service jacket_ and that you could have read _eight weeks ago_ if you'd just _bothered_ to _actually do your fucking job_. You had _no_ right at jumping at her throat, for _any_ of the things she said and did!"

"I had _every_ right!" No. No, you didn't. You genuinely didn't. You… "She went behind my _back_ , Laura! She broke _the fucking chain of command_. That kind of thing is _sacred_ and she _broke_ it!"

Not really, she didn't. And I'm _pretty_ sure that's not what made him explode like that, anyway. "She didn't _tattle_ on you, Tom, she volunteered for a mission crucial to get us all…"

"She volunteered for a fucking _suicide mission_!" And there it is. Anything else and he would have been fine with it. Actual, potentially self-sacrificing hard decisions _someone_ had to make to at least give us all a shot at going home and him not being the one to make those decisions, _that_ he can't abide.

Stupid self-absorbed asshole. "She volunteered to give us all a chance to get _home_!"

"She had… no right to make that decision, Laura. That decision wasn't hers to make. It wasn't _hers_ to make." If I didn't know better, I'd say I just heard a slight hitch in his voice, as if he's close to actually sobbing with frustration and something like sympathy tries to claw its way up in my head. I ignore it. Because that's exactly where he's going wrong.

"No," I tell him, unable to shout anymore, "it was hers alone to make."

"She… she's not… _ready_ to make decisions like that on her own." Really? Have you even _read_ the reports you've regularly given her in the last few months?

And what's with the sudden underlying desperation? I try not to sigh. "She's never been readier to make it."

He shakes his head. "I… I just…"

Not sighing and rubbing his back is becoming increasingly harder. "Can't give her wings and then expect her never to use 'em, Tom."

Instead of answering right away, he sits down on the crate next to him, his head in his hands, wrecking his hair. I know that look. It's the look of a man who just got defeated and who knows it. It's never pretty, especially when it's Tom looking like that, and I don't feel any triumph at having bested him, only a bitter aftertaste in the back of my mouth. I do sigh. "Tom…"

"He's gonna lose her."

…what? "Uh, excuse me?"

He shakes his head, gets up, starts pacing in the narrow lane between shelves packed with medical supplies. " _Him_. He's gonna get careless and _lose_ her."

Oh. Oh, he means his counterpart. And that really is the weirdest show of jealousy I have _ever_ had the misfortune to witness. "I don't think that's gonna hap…"

"He lost her once, Laura!" Oh good, we're back to the yelling. "He can't be trusted around her! He's fucking going to do it again!"

Most stupid load of crap I've heard all week, no kidding. I mean we don't even know how this reality's Reece died in the first place. I roll my eyes. "Tom, that's bullshit."

"No, it's not!" Yes. Yes, it is. "He _let her die_ once and he sure as hell will…"

 _Enough_. " _Stop_ it! _He_ is _you_. He lost her once. The _one_ thing he's _never_ going to do again is _lose Maureen Reece_!"

Oh God. I didn't… I didn't even realize _how_ true that is and what that _means_ for all of us until I saw his face. Tom's usually hard to read unless you know which signs to look for but… even a semi-blind man could have pinpointed the _exact_ moment when he realized what I just said there. And it's _so_ much worse than I ever thought. I always knew that he had a little thing for her, and I thought it was harmless but you could actually _see_ the moment he realized that he's in _way_ over his head.

I move to apologize and I nearly overhear it because it's so quiet that the low hum of the air conditioning nearly makes it inaudible but yes, there it is. A very quiet, "'s not fair, Laura," and the worst thing is that he's _right_. None of that is fair; me spelling it out in black and white, the fact in itself… I shake my head.

There's just nothing we can do about it, and as a wise man once wrote, " _Life_ isn't fair, Tom. It's just fairer than death."

He makes an inarticulate sound, something between a growl and a very frustrated groan, before running a hand through his hair and telling me, with a dangerously nasty undertone to it, "Spare me the _Princess Bride_ quotes."

Okay, whatever. _Don't_ even think about trying to intimidate me with that bullshit. That never worked with me, and it's not working now. Just because you're embarrassed about what I just accidentally discovered doesn't mean you have any right to threaten me or get angry with me. I nearly give him the finger. Instead, I force myself to shrug. "I'm only telling it like it is. Take it or leave it, I honestly don't care." That's a lie, of course, because I _do_ care. I care about this team, about Tom and Maureen and Dee and me the gigantic implications of it all. I care so much that just vaguely thinking of it makes me terribly exhausted. So I choose not to. "But _don't_ keep her here just because you don't trust _yourself_ not to get her killed." There. That's a _much_ safer topic right now.

For a minute at least, I fully expect him to go back into ranting mode but all he gives me after his minute long silence is a rather defeated, "I hate it when you're right."

Oh God, now I can't help taking pity on him after all. I make a face. "Believe it or not but most of the time, I do, too." When he just rolls his eyes, I give him a little punch to the shoulder adding, "Come on, it's not over till is it's over."

He just clenches his jaw for a moment, then nods. Alright. That's settled, then, at least.

I don't expect him to ask me not to tell her because he's not that kind of guy and ours is not that kind of friendship and because we both know I'd rather bite off my tongue than endanger the team's integrity with something that, for _us_ , was plainly spoken about but for everyone else are just nebulous insinuations. Instead, we just nod at each other and he takes a deep breath before turning the knob and stepping back out into the corridor.

We don't talk on the way back to our part of the infirmary and it's almost scary how I can see the shell that received a horribly deep crack when I accidentally dragged his dark little secret to the light harden again with each step, so fast and so brutally that by the time we arrive back, there's nothing left leaking through.

His only concession to his little outburst and my subsequent dragging him outside is nodding at O'Neill and Carter, doing his cocky asshole routine so convincingly that I almost wonder if anything that happened in the last couple minutes was even real. But then I see him looking at Maureen, who's trying so hard to look him squarely, bravely in the eye and nearly succeeding and I see the shell crack again, just a little bit. I wonder if she saw it, too.

"Sir…" Huh. Maybe she did. _Fuck_.

"Permission granted, Lieutenant." She narrows her eyes and maybe she didn't actually see the shell cracking, after all but she sure as hell knows that _something_ 's going on. "Was I being _unclear_ , Lieutenant?"

Oh great, and now he's being a passive aggressive asshole. God, get a _grip_ on yourself, Tom. She half moves to attention. "No, sir." Then _something_ changes in her bearing and… "So… if you'd all please excuse me, I need to… sort a few things out. Sir," she nods at O'Neill, "ma'am," and Carter and… then she's going. What…

For a moment, all I can do – all _any_ of us can do, really – is stare at the curtain she just disappeared through and then it's _my_ counterpart of all people who heaves a sigh and rolls her eyes. "I'll take care of that." To my eternal confusion, both O'Neill and Carter just nod at her and she follows Maureen behind the curtain.

 _Right_. What the _fuck_ just happened here?

_Reece_

Okay, maybe that was dumb.

No, that was _definitely_ dumb.

Carter and O'Neill might not be _our_ Carter and O'Neill but they're still _Major Samantha Carter_ and _General Jack O'Neill_ and you don't just _walk out_ without being dismissed on people like them. You very formally ask for permission to be excused and then do a perfect about face. You really, really don't do that dumb thing that I just did.

Then again, I don't even know what exactly happened but there was _something_ about the Major, maybe his face or his bearing but… it was weird. It was really, really weird and it was _bad_ weird, so bad that I only knew I needed to get out of there and that's what I did. I walked out on _Major Samantha Carter_ and _General Jack O'Neill_ because "there was something weird about Major Moore".

Oh God, I just really, really need to sleep.

Softly sighing to myself, I decide to take the direct route to the guest quarters they assigned to me, not take another detour like the first time. Granted, it led to Major Carter finding a possible way home for us but yeah, it also resulted in the Major totally going off the rails about that whole ATA gene thing. I _swear_ I told him at some point. Or at least didn't outright lie to him about the outcome of my test.

Anyway, something about the reaction and the way he behaved when he was back from his little heart to heart with Laura was really just _off_ and honestly, just for one second, I caught myself wondering about leaving it all behind and joining the Atlantis Expedition, after all. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with the Major being weird and Laura and Dee dancing around each other anymore and honestly, right now, that totally sounds like _bliss_ … and hey, another blissful thing just appeared: the door to my assigned quarters.

Breathing another sigh – this time of relief – I key in the sequence they gave me and… were those two SFs with me the entire time? Man, I really suck, did I mention that?

Okay, whatever, I can still take care of that tomorrow. Now: sleep. Glorious, wonderful…

 _No_.

Fucking knock on my door and just _no_. I'm done with today, all I want is to _sleep_ , and _please_ … "Open up, I know you're in there, your personal SFs just told me."

…Laura?

I blink. Shouldn't she be… no, wait. Not _my_ Laura. The _other_ Laura.

That realization takes me so off-guard that before I even know it, I just opened the door and yep, there she is. I frown at her. "With all due respect but what are _you_ doing here?" Captain. This one is a Captain, too. "Ma'am."

She gives me an apologetic smile. "Just, you know, making sure you're okay."

Oh, good. I'm still frowning. "Yeah, I am, thanks for asking. Now…"

"You're just so… like her." Oh God, not _that_ again. "And, uh, _not_ like her." Uh-huh. Can we get _any more_ cliché? "Anyway, sorry, that was probably a dumb idea. Honestly, sorry for disturbing…"

"Do you want to come in?" _Why_ did I just ask her that?

Oh, right. Because she is, after all, still Laura. I mean, not _my_ Laura but she's _a_ Laura and, to be honest, to date she's the only one who even _tried_ to make an effort to talk to us. Twice, to be precise. She smiles. "Yeah, sure. If that's okay for you." It's not but honestly, I'm pretty sure that there is no universe out there in which Laura Greenspan _doesn't_ get what Laura Greenspan wants.

I step aside and she comes walking in, looking around and then settling down in the chair by the little desk at the foot of the bed. "So…"

"So I'm fine." Ah, shit, channeling the Major much, Lieutenant?

"Yeah, I got that from the way you very politely excused yourself before storming out on a crowd which was three quarters above your pay grade." Right. And _this_ is how you will _always_ recognize the Laura Greenspan in any universe.

"I'm…"

"Not as sorry as you should have been, are you?" _Goddammit_.

I should just throw her out and get some goddamn sleep but strangely, all I do is drag myself over to the bed and sit down on it, to wearily chuck off my boots. For a moment, I contemplate telling her about the Major and the weird something about him and the tension that's been there lately and the Atlantis thing but in the end… I'm a coward. I decide for a completely different road. "You know, since you're already here and everything: what _is_ your Major Moore's problem with me? And _our_ Major Moore, for that matter."

Because _that's_ also been bugging the hell out of me. When the Major and Laura had their little heart to heart, I could _feel_ the other Major's stare on me, and I wasn't even in his line of sight. And honestly, if I'm supposed to go on a mission into Replicator territory with them, I damn well should know about any problems, shouldn't I?

Yeah, that's right, I _definitely_ should and… "It's not your fault." Uh-huh. Coulda fooled me. "It's just… you look like her and sound like her." Yes, we established that already. "But you aren't _her_."

That… didn't explain _anything_. Or at least not as much as I hoped it would. "I'm sorry but could you please be a _little_ more specific?"

I can see her thinking hard about this for a surprising amount of time – they probably got the same policy about, when in doubt, never to reveal more than _absolutely_ necessary – but in the end, she finally says, "Maureen and Tom, they had something." Oh, okay.

"And by something you mean…"

"They weren't exactly dating but everyone knew it was only a question of time and four weeks ago, we went on a mission." Only… a question of time? Suddenly, I do _not_ like where this is going. Not at _all_. "Total cliché, complete with a wedding ritual and everything and well… apparently, they decided to give it a shot afterward."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Oh _God_. "And three weeks ago…"

"Yeah. Three weeks ago." I'm not sure how to react to that. I'm not even sure how I feel about that. "It was… so pointless. We were low on milk and a couple other groceries, and I was on combat medic duty so she took my car to get them. It was… they're still not sure what exactly happened but it must have been some idiot ramming into the driver side with full force." A car wreck? My counterpart didn't die on a mission but on a grocery run, just because some asshole didn't know how to drive safely? I might actually get sick now. I don't even know why but something in that makes me want to dry heave, hyperventilate, something like that.

I try to get myself under control, stay on target here. "Were… I mean, was anyone with her when she…"

Alternate Laura nods. "Yeah. They were closer to Peterson than to the SGC so they brought her there. Tom, as her superior, was the first in her list of emergency contacts and they got him. He must have seen her when she was still alive, must have talked to her because when I finally made it there, he just came out of her cubicle." I… need air. I don't even know why this is so terrible but for some reason, all I keep seeing is _my_ … _our_ Major sitting in the ER at Peterson, after having… God, I just _can't_. "He… huh, I'm pretty sure that he hasn't said three words since he came out of that cubicle. Didn't even tell me that she never made it. He just… came out and sat down on the floor, his back to wall and stayed there for at least an hour. Since then…"

She makes a helpless gesture of defeat and it's honestly tearing at my heartstrings. We had a couple close calls as a team, yes, but we never had to deal with something like _that_ and all of a sudden, I'm really, really grateful for that. Finally, so many things about this team make sense. They way they were staring at me, the lack of conversation among themselves, even the alternate Major's hostility to _my_ I mean _our_ Major; it all just makes sense. They're a team who's a man short, a team that isn't a real SG team anymore, an oddity here.

I can't look her in the eye. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't have asked. That was…"

"Alright. Don't worry, it was okay." God, she's so much like Laura it hurts. "You deserved to know, after volunteering for a suicide mission. And getting yelled at by your commanding officer. What in God's name was that about anyway?"

I shrug, kind of grateful for the change of topic and kind of pissed off about it having to be _that_ topic. I grunt. "Damned if I know."

She gives me a weird look, like she knows something but can't tell me because I need to figure it out for myself for some inane reason. I wish people wouldn't do that. "Well," she says after another weird moment of looking at me all strangely, "I guess it's late and you look like you need your sleep. Are you gonna be okay here?"

If _anyone_ asks me that _one_ more time, I'm gonna _scream_. For now, though, I just swallow the bitchy retort. "Yes, ma'am. Thanks for telling me about… you know."

She makes an apologetic face. "Anytime. Briefing's 0800 tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

Would I _ever_? "No, ma'am. Night ma'am."

With another little smile – this time kind of… encouraging? – she takes her leave and then it's just me and the potted plant in the corner. Okay. That was just really weird. Let's just, uh, try the sleep thing, huh? I'm tired enough for _three_ nights, at least.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, another chapter that wrote itself faster than I anticipated, which is a good thing. Unfortunately, I have feeling that won't be the case with the next chapter so please bear with me if that update takes longer than just a few days. I promise I'll try to hurry!

** Eight **

_Moore_

This just isn’t my day. From nearly getting yelled at by Maureen Reece for doubting her statement that really, she _is_ the only available off-world qualified linguist at the moment, to _actually_ getting yelled at by Laura for not wanting my linguist to go off on a suicide mission into fucking _Replicator_ territory, it’s just been one hellish ride into dread and misery. And landing ourselves into an alternate reality doesn’t even rate first among all the crappy things that happened to date.

Nope, that honor goes to a different thing.

Because believe it or not, having my best friend spelling it out to me in black and white that I’m so head over heels for my linguist that I’m jealous of _myself_ before I even came to that conclusion myself was definitely the low point of my day. Honestly, I’d just tried so hard _not_ to make it too obvious and then Laura goes and blurts it out, just like that. The only thing even _worse_ than that would have been if she’d done it in front of everyone. So I even have to be _grateful_ to her for dragging me away like a petulant four-year-old.

Really, all you can do about this day is passing the remainder unconscious. Sleeping, I mean, not passed out because of another seizure that I just can _feel_ building up way in the back of my head and… “Aren’t you supposed to stay in the infirmary?”

And the hits _just_ keep coming.

Because honestly, that _last_ thing I wanted to encounter on my way back from the bathroom is running into that guy who looks like me, sounds like me, sneaks up on people like me. And yet here he is, frowning at me in a hallway just outside the infirmary. Somewhere, some deity or higher being is probably just laughing its ass off.

I try to give him my best evil stare which probably will do nothing since with my luck, he has exactly the same reaction to people annoying him. “What are you gonna do, call the cops?”

Thank God none of my teammates are here. Every single one of them would probably have tried various versions of grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me away from a fight with myself. But honestly, that guy had it coming, right from the first minute we stepped through this reality’s gate.

For a moment, it looks like he actually considers either calling one of the omnipresent SFs hovering in the background or just subduing me himself but then he just shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. Is that how I look when I don’t really know what to say? “Look, I just wanted to…” What? You wanted to _what_? “We’ll take care of her. I just wanted to say that.”

Take care of… oh. Reece. He must mean Reece. If he’s anything like me… he must have struggled a while to bring himself to come here, give a promise that’s practically impossible to keep. I _never_ give that kind of promise because once I do, I feel bound to keep it, would risk everything to keep it. That he did it anyway, well… I can appreciate that. I nod. “Yeah, you better.”

Okay, I could have phrased _that_ a bit more diplomatic but then again, if he is me, he knows what I meant to say, right? Right. I’m sure he does. So, I guess that is that and I can… “I know how to take care of my people, _Major_. Even if technically, they aren’t _my_ people. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get her back home safely.”

 _Right_. Apparently, that _wasn’t_ that. How come he’s being so chatty all of a sudden? I decide to be cautious. “I never said you wouldn’t.” 

“ _I_ would have.” Okay. I have to be honest. I didn’t expect him to answer _that_.

Then again, I probably should have. It’s something _I_ would have said, were our roles reversed. Doesn’t mean I have to get chummy with him, though. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I know you don’t trust me.” Well, true. “And quite frankly, I wouldn’t trust _you_ , either.” Good choice, buddy. “Mostly because I know myself.” And you don’t trust yourself.

Just like I have issues with trusting myself always to make the _right_ decision. This is honestly getting way too metaphysical for me. Guys, I majored in Computer Science, I’m really just not cut out for this second guessing, inception kind of stuff. Please, give me a _break_? I snort and then take a deep breath, shaking my head. “This is, without doubt, the most fucked up thing that ever happened to me.”

It makes him… snort. And grin. The same humorless, cynical grin I can’t help grinning whenever I find myself in a situation where _nothing_ is funny. “Tell me about it.”

Ah, shit. That guy really is _me_ and that is probably the _only_ reason why I’m stupid enough to say this, “Look, just a… well. Could you _stop_ giving her those _looks_? Pretty sure they’re making her really uncomfortable.”

Oh God, she’s gonna hate me if she ever finds out about that. More than she already does, I mean. And he fucking _knows_ it. “Pretty sure she’s capable of telling me that herself.”

Yeah, technically, she is. But this is Maureen Reece we’re talking about here. Maureen Reece is, without doubt, the most polite and discrete Marine I ever encountered. Telling a field grade she doesn’t know – even if, _technically_ , she does know him – to stop doing something is about the last thing she’ll be doing, at least for at least another two months. And then she’ll blow up _right_ into his face. I try to hide how much it scares me how well I know her by now by sounding a lot more casual than I feel. “She is. Doesn’t mean she has to.”

It makes him smirk and now I finally get why Laura and Reece always look like they’re about to forcefully wipe it off my face when _I_ do that. I look like I need a good slap across the face, goddammit. “She’s gonna give you hell if she ever finds out you went behind her back to tell me that.”

I shrug. “I can live with that.” It’s not a complete lie. There’s been more than one instance when Reece, in her unmatched way of silently glaring at you and judging you with a few well-placed “Oops, did I just say that out loud?” words, told me exactly what she thinks of whatever shit I just did and hey, look at me. I survived each and every one of them! Even with almost all of my dignity intact. It’s just that really, lately it’s been feeling more and more scathing whenever I apparently don’t meet her standards on whatever it is this week.

Let’s just really not think about that, now, though. Because if I did, I’d have to admit that my little outburst earlier today absolutely was one of those instances and… “So, what I was wondering: you two never…” _Goddammit_.

Does he _have_ to do that? Keep asking me stupid stuff out of the blue, stuff like _that_? And not even having the balls to just spell it out? I decide to be difficult about this, _just because I can_. And because I know it will annoy the shit out of him. “Never what?”

“Never mind.” Uh-huh. Good thing our roles aren’t reversed on this one. I sure as hell would be dying of shame inside right now.

This is way more fun than it should be. “No really, did we never _what_?”

He glares at me, knowing full well just how _much_ I’m enjoying this. And here I thought my inner troll had to stay silent for the rest of the mission. I can _see_ how much he wants to roll his eyes and sigh but in the end, he apparently forces himself to sound casual when asking, “You two never had anything else than a professional work relationship?”

I have to be honest. I kind of was hoping that he wouldn’t have the guts to say it, in any way or shape but now he did and I immediately feel myself wanting to tell him how we didn’t and how I fucking _regret_ that. Laura would probably tell me that it’s never too late and just try it but let’s be realistic here. Maureen Reece would _never_ even consider changing our relationship into what my double just hinted at. I’m just not the kind of guy women like her find attractive or deserve. I’m not smart enough or eloquent enough or just basically _whole_ enough. I’m thirty years old and I have more scars than most people twice my age have. I have seen more shit than most people see in their entire _life_. That’s not the kind of guy she wants.

I shake my head. “No. Why would anyone…”

“Good.” Huh? “Keep it that way.” Now, listen here you little…

Oh.

 _Oh_.

I can’t believe it took me so long to… _He_ did. He _had_ something that wasn’t exactly professional with _his_ Maureen Reece. Of _course_ he did. There’s no other explanation for the way he just said that. No jealousy, as I’d originally thought. Regret. So _much_ regret.

It wasn’t a warning to stay away from her because he thinks I’m not worthy of her. It was a warning to stay away from her because he thought he’d been worthy and because she’d ended up dead somehow, anyway. “I…”

“Night, Major. Excuse me, I need to… Oh. Lieutenant.” Huh. What… I blink and turn around and oh, hey, Reece. What are you… “Anyway, see you tomorrow.” And with that, he’s gone. And I’m suddenly stuck with my Lieutenant. Who’s wearing track pants and a t-shirt and walking around barefoot in the SGC. And who might or might not have heard parts of that last conversation. I’m screwed.

Thankfully, Reece is just as flustered as I am and a lot worse than me at hiding it. “Oh, I’m… sorry, sir. I just… I think I’ll just return to…”

Return to her quarters. Yes. That would be good. So I definitely shouldn’t be saying, “ _Or_ you could tell me what’s got you traipsing around the SGC barefoot in the middle of the night.”

Okay, so it’s not the _middle_ of the night yet but the noticeable lack of hustle and bustle in the infirmary tells me that the graveyard shift must have started about an hour or so ago and that definitely counts as “close to the middle of night”, at least.

“Oh, sir, I really don’t… I’m sorry.” Yeah, you said that already. Even though you don’t have anything to be sorry about that,

Me, on the other hand… Well. “Come on, no more apologizing. I’m not… I’m not mad at you, I just want to know why you’re still up so late.” And walking around the SGC in your pajamas. And barefoot. 

Okay, yes, it’s really weird how that barefoot part in particular keeps catching my interest. It’s not like I haven’t seen her in clothes other than BDUs before and it’s not like I haven’t seen her _barefoot_ before, either but somehow, seeing her walking around in pajamas and without shoes in the _SGC_ seems to be a whole new level for me. Makes her look… younger. Vulnerable.

Oh goody, my protector complex just kicked in. Maybe it’s better if I send her back to her quarters, after… “It’s nothing special, sir. Just…” She shrugs, looking a little forlornly. Oh _God_.

I _should_ send her back to bed. I really, really should. I _shouldn’t_ tell her, “Oh for God’s sake, stop playing hard to get. And while we’re at it, let’s get back inside or some really worried doctor will appear here out of thin air and curse me or something.”

Was that a long suffering sigh I just heard? _Was_ it? “Alright, sir. Just… a few minutes. If that’s okay for you.” Okay, maybe it was but I honestly don’t care. Because you know, her saying yes to my stupid suggestion hopefully means that she doesn’t hold a grudge over me having been a superior idiot.

I just nod at her, walking back to the area they cordoned off for us. Inside, the only light still on is the one by my bed. Both Laura and Dee seem to be asleep already, which kind of is a good thing. I don’t need either or even both of them watching my every move with Reece because they’re afraid I’m going to read her the riot act again or something equally stupid. So it’s just the two of us awake now, with me doing the night nurse who’s supposed to monitor us from the next room a favor by actually slipping under my covers and Reece still visibly uncomfortable sitting down on the bed next to mine. Alright. Entertain her. I can do that. I clear my throat. “So, Kid… shouldn’t you be in bed, what with your big mission tomorrow and everything?”

_Greenspan_

Damn, I should have just kept reading my papers instead of pretending to be asleep so the night nurse won’t bother me. Because then I would have been able to glower at Tom to leave Maureen alone and take her aside, have a little nightly chat with her myself. She must be scared sick, what with that mission tomorrow and everything and now all she has to talk her down is _Tom_ of all people. Really, not a good combination.

And yeah, I can even _hear_ her hesitating, sheets rustling as if she’s shifting around a little uncomfortably.

Then, “No.” Good. Show him you’re not intimidated at all. “I mean yes.” No, no back paddling. Don’t… “I just…”

“Can’t sleep?” Wait. Was that uh actual compassion I just heard in his voice?

I mean, maybe Maureen didn’t hear it because it was really subtle but I _swear_ it was there. Oh God, can’t even open my eyes or they’ll know I’m not asleep. Damn, damn, damn. “Something like that, yeah.”

I wish I could have seen her reaction as well as hear it but I take it she shrugged and _tried_ to look unimpressed or at least casual.

“Scared?” And most probably, she didn’t succeed, if even Tom could see well enough to ask her _without_ a trace of sarcasm or arrogance. Instead, only genuine kindness in it. _What_ is going on here?

“No, sir.” Yeah sure, uh-huh. You’re not scared, Maureen. No way. Only even I could hear it in your voice that you’re scared _shitless_ , and I didn’t even have to _see_ you to know that. “It’s just… every time someone mentions that my counterpart from this reality died, it feels like someone just walked over my grave.”

Right. There’s silence and I wish I could see what’s going on between the two of them. Ever since the little heart to heart I had with Tom, I couldn’t help wondering what he’s going to do about it, _if_ he’s going to do anything about it. Knowing him, he’ll probably just hunker down and hope it goes away on its own. It’s always been his preferred tactic in this kind of thing, and usually it backfired one way or the other. So, not putting much hope in it working this time, either.

Also, I keep wondering about Maureen’s side of the whole thing. She never gave any verbal hint about how she personally feels about the Major but I remember the small things, like her coming down into his living room in his clothes after the all-nighter we pulled when we were trying to pin Dee down in April and shooting down _any_ questions on my part immediately – I _still_ don’t know exactly what went down between the two of them to generate _that_ result – and the same Falcons boxing team t-shirt reappearing a week later in our laundry basket and then in irregular intervals on _her_.

There were a few other things like that – books he casually mentioned appearing on her nightstand a few days later, cups of fresh coffee appearing on Tom’s desk during paperwork marathons neither Dee nor I put there, the way she kept looking and quietly smiling at the ridiculous little NYC snow glove he gave her for her birthday in January she placed on her desk, that kind of thing – and honestly, I think we have a problem here.

A _huge_ problem and… “You know, I wish I had a smart answer to that but… you know me.”

Aw, Tom, don’t. Don’t do the whole shrugging and making an apologetic face thing you’ve _got_ to be doing right now, even if I can only hear you. She’s totally gonna fall for that one, because she always does. Because she’s just as head over heels as _you_ and honestly, I really think I should _intervene_ now or be silent forever or some such nonsense.

“No, it’s fine, sir.” Oh no, she has the “I’m very amused about you but you’re my superior officer so I’ll try not to be too hard on you” undertone. He likes that one. I _know_ he does. This really can’t be good. “Okay, I guess I should be going, sorry for keeping you awake. That really wasn’t my…” 

“Hey, you know, Kid, it’s okay to be scared.” Oh, and _now_ he chooses to be sensitive? Asshole. “Replicators are nasty little bastards no one likes to take on. You’re gonna be okay, though.”

Great. And here I always thought he _sucked_ at pep talk. He’s actually really good at it, when he chooses to be. Maybe… I won’t intervene _just_ yet.

“You think so, sir?” I can hear a little smile in her voice, brave and just barely there.

“Yeah.” And there it is; the half grin, the one that’s just a little too cocky, a little too self-assured. The one half the female cadets were swooning over. “You got an excellent team with you.”

There’s a small sound from her, something… oh, that was a _laugh_. He actually managed to make her _laugh_. This really isn’t getting any better. “Yeah, guess I do.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were _flirting_. Ugh, disturbing thought. Maybe _now_ … “It’s just… this is kinda a foreign base and…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence and I’m positive that I just heard a big heap of homesickness there. Alright, here we go again, cue Tom making fun of her or being too flustered to… “Kid…” Yep, totally too flustered to cope with human beings who happen to have emotions. Just great. Here comes the train wreck. “You know… tell you what, you just lie down on that cot and let me tell you a couple of those Academy stories you like so much.” … _what_? Hey, that’s not how it’s supposed to go.

Honestly, I sure hope she’s going to decline now, telling him again that she needs to go… “Nuh-uh, no buts.” Right. At least, apparently, she _tried_ to excuse herself. Unsuccessfully, but yeah, can’t blame her when he uses _that_ tone. “I _know_ you love them when Laura tells them and believe me, I’ve got a couple that are even better than hers.” Oh no, you _don’t_. “So, be a good little Marine, lie down and listen.”

That… sounded totally wrong and I hope he _knows_ that. From the slightly miffed way, Maureen tells him, “Yes, sir,” _she_ definitely did.

“Now there’s a good Lieutenant.” Not getting any better here, Tom! “So, did Laura ever tell you about her first hangover between her Third and Second Year at the Academy?” No, oh God, please not _that_ story. There’s a _reason_ I haven’t told her about it! Don’t even think about… “Thought so.” No, _thinking_ was pretty much the _last_ thing you just did. “Okay, this is how it went…”

Alright, this is it. I open my eyes, after all and… just don’t have the heart to go through with ending this little round of storytelling. I can’t see much because most of Tom’s body is obscuring my view of Maureen but I can see him actually shake with laughter while telling her how he found me hiding in the shrubs and just on the verge of being violently sick behind the house my mother and I moved to after my father died and my brothers decided to be superior assholes in favor of being decent human beings and I can hear her corresponding snort and even a little giggle.

I swear, I have never seen or heard either of them being so comfortable with each other. There are still little signs of hesitation, some holding back, some awkwardness but yeah, _something_ definitely changed between the two of them. And I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not. But yeah… we really got bigger problems right now. Like, for example, finally falling asleep. Guess I’m just gonna work on that for now and cross every other bridge when I get to them. It’s too late in the night for anything else, really.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone remember this story? Yeah. I just checked, it's been about one and a half years since I updated it and yes, I feel bad about that. Thank God something called Evernote exists and I had the foresight to record my road to the end for this one which means I can tell you that after this, there are three more chapters to go and then I can _finally_ go on and post a lot of that stuff I have written over the course of last year and didn't want to post until I had _this one_ finished. And look where that got me. Anyway. Yes, I do come back to finish my stories, even if they're several years old. Yay!

** Nine **

  _Reece_

 So. Replicators. Woo fucking hoo. I haven’t had the pleasure of encountering them in our reality, and I can’t say I’m sorry about that. From everything I heard about them, I could only deduce that not having had to meet them makes me one lucky Marine, and here I am, having volunteered to do just that. Maybe the Major was right. Maybe it was a really dumb call to make.

 Then again, it was the only _possible_ call to make, besides bugging out and most probably losing the only chance we have at getting home and well, if I have learned anything in my time with SG10, it’s that sometimes, it doesn’t matter how dumb your decision is, you still gotta make it.

 So I did, and now I’m walking through just another forest looking suspiciously like British Columbia but being eerily quiet. Which is, coming to think of it, the most intimidating thing about it. Aside from the barely audible sounds of four people walking along a narrow forest path, there’s nothing to hear. No birds, no small forest critters, nothing. Not even the odd annoying insect. It’s just… weird. As if all lifeforms higher than plants have been eradicated from this planet. That’s not what it said in the SGC database, I’m pretty sure about that.

 In fact, the only major difference between this ZPM location here and the one in our reality is that the one in our reality was abandoned by the Ancients but definitely populated by a pretty wide array of creatures and this one here… is in replicator space. And the only possible conclusion seems to be the curious absence of animals is somehow related to the planet being in replicator space. Oh God.

 Okay, don’t panic. You’ve been through worse things. You survived a fucking brainwashing _and_ a body switch, on the same mission. Abduction, borderline illegal personnel retrieval ops, furious locals, you’ve seen it all. Just one snag and bag shouldn’t be causing you that kind of anxiety, not anymore.

 Then again, I’ve been through all of this _with my team_. These guys, the ones I’m currently hiking through the forest with, they might _look_ like my team but they’re virtually strangers as all conversations have proven up to now. Apparently, this team’s Laura even spent time at Eglin with their Major and Dee, meaning she was _actually_ part of the Black Ops community, and well, then there’s this whole thing with this Major and his Maureen Reece which still fails to _properly_ compute with me and… “Hey, you okay?”

 Huh? Oh God, please don’t tell me that my short burst of irrational panic actually showed. I give alternate Laura my best confident face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 “No, you’re not.” Goddammit.

 Please don’t make _them_ tell me how bad of a liar I am, too. “And what makes you say _that_?” She doesn’t answer right away, just grins and yep, they very much think I’m the world’s worst liar, too. I refrain from rolling my eyes. “On second thought, don’t answer that.” _That_ makes her laugh, just a small chuckle and I’m pretty sure if the guy in point were _our_ Major, he’d at least snort but… not a word. Dee, _our_ Dee, would crack a grin or at least one of those barely there smiles but well, not this one.

 I’m not sure I feel my confidence inspired much by that.

 Maybe something else, will. I take a deep breath. “Sir, permission to ask a question?”

 He doesn’t stop but, doesn’t even turn around fully, just throws, “Fire away, Lieutenant,” over his shoulder. Alternate Laura just gestures me to go on.

 Well then, “How did you manage to survive so long against the Replicators? Everything I read about them points toward them being nearly invincible.”

 He shrugs, somehow looking very much like our Major in that moment which is… _really_ weird. One of those slightly out of phase moments that nearly makes me miss his answer. “We made a truce with them. We don’t attack their bases, they don’t attack our bases.”

 That’s uh interesting. And nearly unbelievable, considering everything I read about the replicators. I frown. “And that works?”

 “It did. Until a couple months ago,” alternate Dee suddenly volunteers and nearly makes me jump. I’m not even sure I’ve heard him say anything until now.

 I do my best to hide that I just nearly jumped out of my skin by putting on some extra game face. “What happened?”

 Alternate Dee again. “There are several factions within them. Some are moderate, some aren’t.”

 Right. Huh. Okay, I think I get it. “And those that aren’t, are currently winning?”

 Alternate Laura smirks. “She’s smart, Tom.”

 I’m not sure what I expected him to answer but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t, “Someone on this team has to be.”

 Again, that kind of throws me off the loop, this time because it’s something our Major probably _wouldn’t_ say. And because I detected a hint of something, maybe bitterness, maybe regret, maybe longing in his voice, something I never thought I’d hear in Thomas “Jackknife” Moore’s voice, _ever_. It’s just _weird_. And so… heartbreaking that the only thing I can come up with as an answer is, “I’ll take that as a yes, sir.”

 He nods and stops on top of the hill we’d been climbing. “You do that.” I’m not sure what to answer but thankfully, I don’t have to come up with anything because he gets _his_ game face on and slips into command mode. “Okay, folks, you know the drill. Don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to touch, don’t shoot anything that isn’t attacking you, don’t linger. We’re not here for sightseeing, we’re here for a smash and grab.”

 The _words_ sound a lot like something our Major would say but our Major would add some levity to his voice, or maybe some bravado or casualness. I mean, he would add _something_ , not sound like a… robot, just rattling it down. Seeing this version of him, a guy who _looks_ like him and _sometimes_ sounds like him but mostly just seems to walk through life as if he has to, not because he wants to is doing… nasty things to me. It’s kind of like watching a replicator version of him, to be honest, and that’s just really, really creepy. If I hadn’t wanted to get the hell back home before, _now_ would be the point when I _definitely_ wouldn’t mind being beamed back into my reality ASAP.

 The rest of the team just nods, murmuring their “Yes, sir”s and without waiting for my confirmation, he starts to lead the team down the slope, towards the building situated in a little clearing. It looks like the objective, a small Ancient structure. If I remember it correctly, it was supposed to be a small outpost lab. No noteworthy research or defense mechanisms or anything eating up so much energy that they would leave a few backup ZPMs. Hopefully, the replicators _didn’t_ feel the need to rectify the defense mechanism situation.

 It’s just a short walk from the top of the hill down into the clearing and before I know it, we’re in front of a set of sliding doors. The alternate Major just nods at me with his face set in stone – our Major probably would have added something like “Work your magic, Kid,” and I honestly never thought I’d _miss_ hear him calling me that – and I carefully start searching the doorframe for an entrance… ah, found it. And lo and behold, it immediately reacts to that gene they found in my DNA to slide the doors open. All of us instinctively raise our rifles but the open doors simply reveal an empty corridor and we lower the rifles just a bit. I’m about to take the first step inside the building when I feel a firm hand on my shoulder and the alternate Major walks through the doors. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at me but that hand – _his_ hand – on my shoulder just very much told me that he expects me to stay out of the line of fire under all costs.

 I nearly rant at him to cut the stupid protective crap – by now, our Major wouldn’t have minded me taking point in a facility I’m best qualified for recon and being told to take a backseat by a guy looking like him rankles more than I thought it would – but alternate Laura just shakes her head when she passes me. Whatever’s going on here, it’s probably got something to do with this reality’s Reece’s death, and I am not touching _that_ with a ten feet pole.

 So I just grit my teeth and follow her, let alternate Dee take six. We make our way through the corridor and after a few moments of experiencing a weird, disorienting buzz in my head and low lights turning on every time I take a step, I realize that the _building_ is trying to tell me something. Apparently, I didn’t even have to try so hard to memorize the blueprints because the damn building is doing all it can to tell me where to go to get what we need.

 Right. This is stupid. For all intents and purposes, _I_ should be taking point and I decide to put my foot down. Whatever trauma the alternate Major needs to act on here, it’s tactically stupid. I stop.

 Alternate Dee seems to be so put off by it he nearly runs into me and both alternate Laura and the Major need a moment to realize that I’m not following their lead anymore. If I didn’t know better, I’d say alternate Dee and Laura are both glaring at me. The alternate Major is just giving me an impassive look. Good God, would _some_ emotion be asked too much?

 I force myself _not_ to take a breath before addressing him this time. “Sir, permission to take point.”

 “Permission denied, Lieutenant.” Hey! You didn’t even hear me out! “And no, don’t try to reason with me, the faster we’re out of here, the better.”

 Yeah, no, nuh-uh. I’m done with being pushed around by either of your versions. “But sir, that’s why I…”

 “I _said_ no reasoning, _Lieutenant_.” Wow. I uh never heard him sounding so… _cold_ before. Annoyed, yes, irritated, even pissed off. Cold? No. That’s one thing Thomas Moore isn’t, as much as he’d love everyone to believe it.

 “Here’s the thing, sir: you want to get out of here ASAP, you let me take point.” He wants to say something, and Laura is now furiously shaking her head, abandoning any attempts at being subtle but yeah, this is one of those moments when I manage to speak before thinking. “I don’t care if you believe me or not but I know _exactly_ how to get to the objective and I know which paths to avoid. Apparently, my ATA gene means that Ancient technology can interact with me, and that’s what’s happening. You can tell me it’s all mumbo-jumbo later but right now, I’m telling it to you like it is: the building’s telling me everything I need to know, feeding me all the information I need. So, you can either keep up your protective BS or you can make a tactically sound decision but you can’t have both. Which one is it gonna be, sir?”

 Oh. Wow. Okay. I guess I just surprised even myself. I’ve had a few moments of rebellion against the Major but I’m pretty sure not even I have yet been so stupid as to openly challenge one of his decisions as bullshit. Ironically, that’s also the moment I finally get an emotion out of this reality’s Major and it’s none of those I’d have expected.

 Usually, the first reaction I get would be either indignation or anger but never… blinking and looking like I just kicked his favorite puppy, just for a moment. Or okay, no, that was actually an inaccurate description. _Accurate_ would be a look of utter hurt, like someone stabbed him in the heart and turned around the knife and something tells me that I probably just reminded him very much of _his_ Reece, the one he lost in a pointless car crash. All of a sudden I realize that all this cold, indifferent act is a façade, covering up something really bad and painful and I would have apologized right this moment if the mask hadn’t been back a second later and he wouldn’t have said, “Alright, take point. Don’t make either of us regret it.”

 Not sure what he means by “either of us” but yeah, I’m totally not going to ask because I might not like the answer. Instead I just nod and assume my position at the front, rifle raised, slowly making my way towards the ZPM’s location. The slightly disorienting buzz is still in my head but apparently, being a natural gene carrier also means that somehow, I seem to have some natural aptitude at learning how to handle Ancient installations telling me where to go.

 Alright, taking point, then. Slowly, we make our way deeper inside the building, encountering nothing but eerie silence and lights switching in automatically. I’m not sure what’s more off-putting but at least it also means that until now, we’re all still in one piece. Gotta count your blessings and all that.

 Against all better judgement, I feel a small glimmer of hope spark inside because maybe that means that even though we’re in replicator space, this means that they either haven’t discovered this location yet or didn’t think it was important enough to warrant an actual presence. Maybe this _will_ be the cleanest, quickest and easiest retrieval op of all times.

 Then again, this is SG10, even if it’s three quarters an alternate version. Or maybe just one quarter, depending which way you look at it. Anyway, the most important thing is, nothing is ever clean or quick in this team, especially not missions.

 So I try not to think too much about it, just concentrate on getting where the building is sending me and after another thirty damn minutes of creeping around the building… “Ta da, the Cave of Wonders.”

 Oh come on, not even a reaction to _that_ one? If I didn’t already know we went down the rabbit hole yesterday, I’d pretty sure know about it by now. Instead of at least giving me a smirk or anything, the alternate Major just walks past me, rifle up to secure the room. He and alternate Dee do a sweep first, then gesture for alternate Laura and me to enter. And there, in a nice little podium, sits one of the most coveted commodities of the galaxy.

 As the designated ZPM carrier, I walk over to the thing and pull it out of its resting place, careful not to touch anything other than the ZPM itself and hoping to God that there aren’t any fail saves and/or tripwires connected to it. When nothing happens after a moment of tensed waiting, I put it away in the backpack I’ve been carrying and sling it back on. Still nothing. Okay. _Maybe_ …

 “ _Fuck_.”

 Or maybe not. I blink, look at the alternate Major. “Sir, what…”

 “Run. All of you. Don’t look back, just run like you’re being chased by the devil. Because that’s _exactly_ what’s gonna happen in a few seconds.” What the fucking… “ _Move_ , Lieutenant!”

 Seeing as this is basically a one-eighty from his stone-cold demeanor from just a minute ago, it’s pretty safe to say that he means business. So you know what I do? I _run_. Jesus fucking Christ, you couldn’t have let me have just _one_ easy mission, could you?

  _DeLisle_

 I’m not sure which is worse: the seizures that hit us about half an hour after Maureen and our alternates set out to find the errant ZPM or the freak-out the Major has going on ever since we woke up from the black-out the seizures caused.

 We’ve been out cold for about three hours this time and the team should have been long back by now, that much is true. It is, however, _no_ reason to be as itchy as the Major currently is. I mean, on the _surface_ he looks all calm – or at least _tries_ to, anyway – but I know that look in his eyes. It’s the one he gets when something isn’t going the way he wants it to go. And when he’s _nervous_. I’ve known that guy for a few years now. He hasn’t been nervous in any way or shape for the overwhelming amount of those years.

 I share a look with Laura above his head and she seems to think the same thing. Or maybe she’s just suffering from the same splitting headache I am suffering from. It’s hard to tell because that headache is kind of impounding on my ability to read her – could be the fact that I’ve been trying not to look at her at all ever since the uh incident, though – so her squinting could also have been the result of… “The fuck is _taking_ them so long?”

 Right. From that eye-roll, I think it’s safe to say that nope, it wasn’t the headache. She really did notice the jumpiness practically wavering around the Major. “You know how it goes, Tom. Stop panicking.”

 She rubs her forehead and looks at me again and I think that’s more than in the entire time since what happened up on Pikes Peak. I mean, sure, we didn’t completely ignore each other because that’s virtually impossible when you’re on the same gate team but, well, outside of what’s required to keep the team working, we didn’t look at each other, didn’t talk with each other… and pretended that the incident… oh for God’s sake, the _kiss_ never happened. I really thought it worked fine, and until lately, it did. Kind of.

 Anyway, that’s really not the issue here, so let’s not dwell on it. The Major is the more pressing issue right now. “Sir, I agree with Captain Greenspan. They might be overdue…”

 “They damn well _are_ ,” he practically _snaps_ at me and it’s getting ridiculous. “They should have been long back by now and no one here is telling us _anything_. What kind of crappy operation are they running here?” Oh good God, he _knows_ that keeping us in the dark about the progress of the op is SOP for cases like ours. If roles were reversed and it were _our_ SGC and _us_ out there and the other ones in the infirmary, recovering from recent seizures, no one would be telling _them_ anything, either.

 Laura throws me a look again, apparently asking who of us should take the lead on it and I try to communicate to her that I want her to keep doing it for the time being. No one can talk the Major better off a ledge than Laura. She gives a silent resigned sigh. “Tom, stop. You _know_ that they’re only following procedure. And as long as we don’t hear anything…”

 And just like this, _that_ went out the window. The klaxons that just started blaring – _goddammit_ , some folks in here are still being plagued by fucking headaches, have a care, okay – are those signaling a team coming in under fire and the lights going off in the infirmary mean that they’re carrying wounded. Instincts make all of us react instantaneously, the Major and me starting to take up gate room security positions, Laura blindly reaching for the nearest first aid kit but the SFs at the infirmary’s entrance remind us very fast that we’re very much supposed to sit this one out. Too bad for them the adrenaline’s already flowing and the Major actually manages to take out one of them before someone finally manages to shut off the alarm and General O’Neill very loudly tells us to, “Stand down, all of you!”

 We more or less freeze in what we’re doing right at our current place and after a moment having to come down from the adrenaline high, O’Neill’s look makes us go back to our assigned infirmary beds. The General comes walking in, being followed by Carter and our doubles. And Maureen. Who’s wearing a makeshift bandage around her right upper arm. Not good.

 In fact, it’s really, really _bad_.

 “You goddamn son of a bitch!” Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Faster than anyone can react, the Major’s getting in the face of his counterpart. “You _promised_! Not a fucking _scratch_ , you said! And look what…”

 “I did no such thing! You know as good as I that…”

 “You said you’d take care of her! _Does that look like taking care of someone to you_? She’s _wounded_ , you little fuck, that’s not…”

 “We went on a _mission_. Sometimes people get hurt on missions, you _know_ that. Stop getting into my face for…”

 “Stop it!” Okay, _what_ just happened? Did Maureen Reece really just step between two Special Forces officers ready to beat the crap out of each other, _just like that_? “Stop it, _both_ of you. I am not your fucking porcelain doll to fight over. This crap’s gotta end, and it ends _now_ because I am _done_ with your stupid dick measuring contest!”

 Wow. That. I uh. I’m not sure… what to say. And from the look of it, neither is anyone else, especially the two Majors in question.

 In the end, after another moment of complete and utter stunned silence, it’s General O’Neill who finds his voice first, sounding almost amused when he drawls, “Lieutenant’s got the right of it. _Try_ to behave like civilized people for at least a few minutes, gentlemen.”

 For a moment, both Majors keep staring at each other and it’s almost ridiculous how I can see _my_ counterpart gearing up to grab his boss the same moment I prepare to make my move to separate the two before they finally both take a very small step backwards, apparently willing to back down ever so slightly, after all.

 “Alright, now that we cleared that up: Major Moore, I take it your mission was successful?” Our Major starts to answer and barely catches himself, probably remembering just in time that we’re still supposed to be in the backseat here.

 The alternate one nods, not taking his eyes off ours. “Yes, sir. ZPM’s in Lieutenant Reece’s backpack.”

 O’Neill nods and Carter, who apparently had just been _waiting_ to get her hands on it, relieves Maureen of the backpack and the small sound of distress she makes at surrendering it seems to finally shake the Major out of the fog of his anger at his double. If you know what you have to look for, you can actually see the remaining tension and fight leak out of him, leaving behind a guy who looks, just for a moment, exhausted and sick of the entire universe. Not a look you get to see on him that often.

 Carter, for her part, opens the backpack and pulls out the cylinder we have been coming to know as the source of nearly never-ending energy named a Zero Point Module. I could have sworn that the first look she gave it was that of a new mother taking a first look at her newborn baby and I just _bet_ she would have cradled just as lovingly if O’Neill hadn’t cleared his throat in a very distinct manner. So instead, she pulls herself together and gives Maureen a pat on the shoulder of her uninjured arm, murmuring, “Good job, Lieutenant,” before excusing herself to her lab.

 That still leaves General O’Neill and the alternate team who, under closer inspection, look a little worse for the wear themselves. By now, the infirmary crew also look ready to pounce on all of them to patch them all up and this reality’s O’Neill seems to have about the same respect for Dr. Fraiser ours had so it doesn’t really surprise me when his next orders are, “Alright, get your post-mission physical and report for duty tomorrow at 0800. Carter says she’s sure that she and the geek squad will have figured out how to proceed by then.” _Another_ night in the infirmary? Aw hell no. “Until then, all of you are on downtime. _Separate_ downtime for you two, gentlemen.”

  _Both_ Majors now look like disgruntled schoolboys who just had to be pulled off each other by the headmaster and are now _very_ reluctantly cooling their heels until the headmaster is gone from the school yard again. O’Neill for his part very much looks like he wants to do the usual “I’m leading a bunch of fucking _kindergartners_ ” thing but refrains from it in the end, even refrains from telling everyone to behave themselves before taking his leave.

 Immediately, the infirmary personnel move in, Laura visibly having to go against her instincts to join Dr. Fraiser, Lieutenant McIntyre and a few others and instead stay put on her bed. They usher Maureen a couple beds away, while the others look to follow at a little more sedate pace and I try not to crane my neck to see what… “Got a shard buried in her arm. Didn’t nick anything vital but Laura said she still needs stitches.”

 Okay, so _my_ counterpart _didn’t_ follow the rest of his team and it says a lot about what the last couple hours did to me that I didn’t even notice him coming up until he was standing right next to me. I throw my teammates a short look and they seem to be asking nonverbally whether I want them to intervene or not. Usually, this would be one of the occasions I wouldn’t even hesitate to enlist their support but on a whim, I decide to go solo on this one. I turn back to him, one of my eyebrows raised. “Laura?”

 He shrugs. “I take it she’s Captain Greenspan in your reality?”

 “She’s Captain Greenspan in _yours_ , too, last time I checked.” Because I’m _pretty_ sure she has the same rank and last name here as well?

 That makes him snort, about the same way _I_ would have snorted and whoa, am I ready to get the hell back to our own reality by now. “Good point.” It is. “She’s not a doctor in this one, though. And let me guess, she never even saw Eglin’s front gates from the inside in _yours_?”

 Yeah, uh, what? “Mhnope, she didn’t.” And you know what? I’m glad about that. Because I used to know a woman who did, and I ended up shooting that one in the face. Not something I’m especially proud of. “Why’d you even ask?”

 “This one did, a few years back.,” he tells me, pointing towards their version of Laura Greenspan, currently getting a small gash in her forehead looked at. “It’s why she’s a paramedic instead of a doctor.” What the… _what_?

 Not really sure how to take that in, I reply the first thing coming into my head, “And you know this how?”

 “Because I was there. She was slated for med school but for some reason she got pulled to Eglin instead, shortly after Moore and I started serving there. Known her for a few years now.” I uh what?

 I blink a few times and try to work this through, try to imagine what life would have been like if I’d gotten to know Laura several years before meeting her at the SGC for the first time, at how life would have gone if we’d had years to get to know each other instead of a few months. At how things would be now between us. I find that for some reason, I’d rather not, after all. Also, “Why the hell are you telling me this?”  

 There’s a shrug again. “Because you looked at her like you should know.” Wait, _what_? “Like you’ve been wondering.” How… I can’t have been _that_ obvious, can I? Because if I had, the Major sure as hell would have… “I can’t answer that but here’s the thing: life’s short enough for people like us, and she and I both realized that a couple years ago. Don’t take too long or you’ll regret it.”

 The _hell_ is that supposed to mean? I’m about to give him a piece of my mind but the alternate Laura Greenspan choses that moment to call out at him, across half the infirmary, “Hey, Dee, stop chatting up strangers and get your ass over here if you don’t want all my infirmary friends coming after you with sharp and pointy objects.”

 His only answer is rolling his eyes good-naturedly at her and giving me one last parting “What can you do, right?” look before making his way over to the infirmary personnel waiting to put him through his post-mission physical.

 Still thrown off by what he just told me I shake my head and walk back to the Major and Laura, both sitting on their respective infirmary beds and giving me quizzical looks. It’s the Major who takes point on questioning me, asking, “What was that about, Dee?”

 Maybe, if it had just been him and me, I would have told him. But Laura’s presence makes everything so, _so_ much more complicated that all I find myself doing is lean against his bed, my arms crossed in front of my chest and telling him, “Hell if I know, sir,” and making the mistake of looking at Laura instead of him while saying it.

 I can _see_ that she wants to say something – thankfully, most of the Major’s attention seems to be on Maureen – but for some reason, she keeps quiet. Right. So instead of doing something about _our_ issues, we both seem to have come to the conclusion that the _Major’s_ issues seem to take precedence. She makes a soundless sigh and then says quietly but _very_ seriously, “Tom, I swear to God, if you give her a hard time over her intervention, I _will_ make you regret it.”

 Contrary to my expectation and I guess hers, too, he doesn’t reply with a wisecrack or a counter-thread or maybe a reminder that he’s still her superior but just nods and runs a hand over his eyes. Yeah well. Been a hard day for all of us. Let’s just hope it was all worth it, huh?


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I was being serious about getting down with this story. Also, whoops for that second part. You'll know what I mean when you get there...

** Ten **

_Greenspan_

 You know what’s the weirdest thing that happened on this mission yet? I mean, aside from the whole freaky alternate dimension thing. Or actually, it’s _weirder_ than that. Anyway, what I mean is Tom’s complete lack of verbal reaction to my serious threat involving Maureen’s one of a kind intervention at the pissing contest he was about to have with his double.

  _Normally_ , he’d take that as just another opportunity to remind me of who’s in charge of this team – or supposed to be, anyway – but this time he just… I mean, he didn’t _let it slide_ but just… seems to have accepted it? Honestly, if _that_ doesn’t trump the whole alternate reality thing, I don’t know what would. So I almost make a move to, I don’t know, give him some encouragement, I guess but they’re finally done with patching Maureen up and she comes walking over, looking… contrite. Huh.

 Well, at least _that’s_ something I can handle. Finally _something_ is standard around here, because that’s _exactly_ the way she always looks after she has one of her outbursts. She comes to a halt in front of Tom, her jacket off and her t-shirt revealing that the makeshift bandage she’d been wearing when she came in her has been replaced by a fresh one. After a moment of rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet and Tom raising his eyebrows expectantly – _someone’s_ recovering amazingly fast – she clears her throat and addresses him, “I uh, I’m really sorry, sir, I uh…”

 “Sorry for what, Kid?” Huh. Is _that_ how he’s gonna play it? Lead her around in a circle until she gives up in frustration, just because he wants to watch her squirm in revenge for embarrassing him in front of, well, himself?

 Then again, there wasn’t any of the slyness or maybe smugness that would usually have been there if that had been his intention. Just that same tiredness that seems to have him in its grip ever since facing off with his double. Maureen, for her part, looks like she can’t make anything out of that, just like Dee and me and for some reason that chases all residual bravado out of her voice, leaving behind an amount of insecurity I haven’t heard from her since the body switch mission. She _tries_ to cover it but it’s all over her body language and still audible in her voice. “For… for embarrassing you like that in front of a superior officer, sir. The uh the degree of insolence was unwarranted and I really should have…”

 “Water under the bridge, Lieutenant.” Already? I don’t think so. Not even though his tired act looks surprisingly genuine.

 Maureen doesn’t seem to believe it, either. “I, look, I know I really overstepped my boundaries and you’d be well within your rights to…”

 “Kid, give it a _rest_.” Okay. Wow. He seems to be serious about not wanting to talk about it, not even to reprimand her or remind her that this _definitely_ is never going to happen again. “Seriously, it’s fine, stop looking at me like I’m losing it, everyone.” Right. So he hasn’t lost his touch, after all. I was getting a little worried, to be honest, and from the look of it, both Dee and Maureen thought the same. “Been a long day for all of us, things like that are bound to happen. ‘Sides… it’s always fun watching _you_ go off the rails like that.” Aaand he’s back.

 She rolls her eyes. “ _Very_ funny, sir.”

 And _finally_ there’s something else than just weariness in his face. In fact, there’s one of those half-grins that have been known to make people wipe them off the face with a well-placed backslap. And by people I mean me. Once. Okay, I did it once. But it was really, really, _really_ gratifying. Anyway… “No really, did I ever tell you how _much_ I enjoy watching you put people in their place before you remember that it goes against your usual on-duty persona?” I swear to God, if he tells her that he enjoys her putting _him_ in his place, I’ll have to try that wiping the smirk off his face thing again. With a goddamn cudgel. “You really should do that more often.”

 She _tries_ to hide it with the usual “Is he being _serious_?” face but I _swear_ she just _perked up_ at that. What the _fuck_ , Maureen? “Mh, yeah, I kinda did it during the mission. I don’t think your double would agree with your assessment, sir.” Right, yes, blushing, okay, I know that one. Phew. Back to normal.

 And Tom just _definitely_ perked up at that. Oh no. She gave him a story. He will _never_ let _that_ one go. “And you only tell me that _now_? Okay, we really need to…”

 “Get you home and we’ll be able to do it tomorrow.” Whoa, where did Carter just come from? “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping. I just thought you’d like to hear the good news ASAP.” Well, yeah, okay, she’s right. “Anyway, uh, I had a look at the ZPM and it’s suitable. I’ll have to do some more calculations but we’ll definitely be ready to send you home by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” The bright smile on her face is heartwarming. That’s a proud scientist if I ever saw one and I might see _our_ Carter in a totally different light from now on. Somehow, I only ever saw the larger than life model soldier none of us could ever measure up to when I thought of her, never the dedicated, brilliant scientist who actually _loves_ her job because she really fucking loves _science_.

 “How?” Just like that, the smile gets replaced by a frown. Goddammit, Tom.

 “Pardon, Major?” Huh, and here I thought she’d be used to monosyllable questions. Maybe there are some differences between this reality’s O’Neill and ours.

 Tom is this close to give her an annoyed look but thankfully refrains from it. I’m pretty sure he remembered just in time that both Maureen and I would have felt tempted to give him an impression of just _how_ much none of the female soldiers at the SGC enjoy anyone being an asshole with Samantha Carter. Instead, he _tries_ not to be patronizing or overly patient when he reiterates, “ _How_ are you going to get us _home_ , ma’am?”

 “Oh, right.” Okay, either she didn’t notice that he was borderline being an asshole or she chose to ignore it. Good on her. He hates it when people do that. “Well, there are still some details I need to hammer out, mostly concerning timing but basically, we’re going to get you back to P8G-739, set up the ZPM to get recharged, have you dial the alpha site and overload the ZPM in the right moment which will hopefully catapult you back to your reality.”

 There’s silence for a moment, while Carter looks at us with an expectant face, probably waiting for us to be overjoyed. Or something. Tom decides to be the one to disappoint her. “We really don’t want to know the odds of that working out, do we, ma’am?”

 That makes her chuckle and make a face, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think you do.”

 I can see that he’s _very_ tempted to tell her that it’s _a really dumb plan_ but ultimately decides against it, probably still aware that you do not tell Samantha Carter that you consider something she came up with as _dumb_ and he leaves it at, “Well, uh, thanks, ma’am. We very much appreciate what you have done for us.”

 She nods. “You’re welcome. Okay, I guess I’ll let you turn in for the night.” And then she does something really unexpected. She turns to Maureen. “Want me to walk you back to your quarters, Lieutenant?” Huh? Where did that just come from?

 “Uh, thanks for the offer, ma’am, but I’d like to stay with my team.” Wow. Maureen Reece being offered the chance to spend time in the company of a woman I _know_ she kind of worships and _turning it down_?

 Oh.

 Oooh.

 Yeah, I get it. That’s exactly the reason she turned the offer down. She feels overwhelmed by being in so close proximity to the one woman practically every female SGC soldier wants to be like, _again_. Granted, it’s not _our_ Carter but I guess she’s close enough to make someone feel intimidated anyway.

 Carter seems to have gotten it, too. Or at least she got the part about wanting to be with one’s team instead of being out there in a strange base all on your own. She nods. “Fair enough. See you all tomorrow then.”

 And with that, she leaves our area of the infirmary again. By now, everyone except the staff on duty has left, including our doubles and everything has calmed down to the usual late shift low-key buzz. After a moment of kind of awkward silence, it’s Tom breaking the ice again, turning to Maureen with a kind of terrifying gleam in his eyes. “So, Lieutenant, about that thing you mentioned, the one on the mission…”

 “You’re never gonna let that go, are you, sir?” He just shakes his head, she rolls her eyes and in the end decides to sit down on the bed she slept on last night, opposite his, apparently getting comfortable. “Alright. So basically, it went like this…”

_Reece_

 So it’s off to P8G-739 and a possible suicide attempt at getting back home. Then again, it _is_ our only chance, even if it’s a snowball’s chance in hell and we really, really want to go home. Last night, we all did our best to make it look like one of the evenings at the Major’s house or Laura’s and my apartment; laughing, talking, bit of bullshitting but the truth is, we probably just tried to forget how much the prospect of anything going wrong with this was scaring us.

 There is a _lot_ that can go wrong with it.

 So I’m really not sure why I’m not with my team right now, spending the last hour before departing going through the plan or something. I should be with them, just like I was with them last night and yet.

 And yet here I am, having snuck out of the ready room when alternate Laura and Dee had come in for some last minute well wishes, wandering through the bowels of the SGC, pretending that I have no idea where I’m going when I know very well… and here we are. I’d kind of been hoping that it wouldn’t be here but apparently, leopards don’t even change their spots in other realities. The Major’s office is right where it is in our reality. So, now that we ascertained _that_ … “Either you come in or you close the door and leave me the hell alone. Which one’s it gonna be?”

 Right. Already been noticed. I have a feeling that tactical retreat is not an option anymore. I should have known I couldn’t sneak past his radar any more than I could have snuck past our Major’s radar with his door half open like that. So… which one _is_ it gonna be? “Seriously, just make up your damn mind.”

 Okay, fine. I was this close to turning around and leaving and I’m pretty sure I’ll forever regret _not_ having done it but I just take a deep breath and step into the doorframe. “Sorry for disturbing you, sir.”

 He looks up from his desk, squinting at me out of the semi-dark of his office. The only light comes from his desk lamp, a cone thrown over whatever file he has open in front of him. I can’t read his face in that kind of light which is why it surprises me that his voice sounds a little startled when he says, “Lieutenant? Anything I can help you with?”

 Not really, no. But now that I’m here, unfortunately I can’t just excuse myself and turn around. So I give him the next best thing coming into my head. “I uh… I just wanted to apologize, sir.”

 “Apologize, Lieutenant?” Why is it that both Majors keep asking me what I’m sorry for when I move to apologize?

 “Uh, yes, sir. For the way I… behaved back on the replicator planet.” The truth is: I should feel a lot more apologetic about it, considering that I gave a superior officer who I technically don’t even know a rub down with a damn wire brush across his backside, metaphorically speaking. But after last night, after _our_ Major pulling the whole story out of me and telling me that he’d have been too impressed to even think about dressing me down if _he_ ’d have been on the receiving end of my little tirade, contrition is about the last feeling I can muster up.

 This reality’s Major takes a moment to look at me with narrowed eyes, then says, “You know, apologies normally work a lot better if whoever’s uttering them is _actually_ sorry.”

  _Goddammit_. He’s not supposed to be so good at spotting it. Okay, so I have finally started to get an inkling that the Major – _our_ Major – isn’t as bad at reading people as he likes to make everyone believe but that’s kind of the point. This one didn’t even bother to hide it. I clear my throat. “What makes you think I’m not, sir?”

 “Because you don’t have anything to be sorry about and you very well know it.” Damn. That’s about the same thing our Major said to me. Or, okay, actually it was more along the lines of, “He damn well deserved that and don’t you _dare_ feel sorry for it.” Also, our Major then grinned while this one just keeps staring at me.

 “I could have been a little less… abrasive, though.” And I really do mean that. I could have taken the aggressiveness down a notch and still have gotten to say my piece.

 And _that_ makes the Major give a very short but genuine laugh. “You’re a Marine, Lieutenant. Far as I know, communicating with anything but abrasiveness is against your Code of Conduct or something.”

 Ah, here we go again. Majors being appreciative every time I sound or act like a Marine. As if they, I don’t know, get turned on by it or something. I consider telling him that he went for a very weird turn on, but remember just in time about the connection he had with my self from this reality. I only give him a knowing little half-smile. “Good point, sir.”

 He nods and gets up from his desk, walks around it with a few steps and then leans against it with his backside, hands in his pockets. It’s disturbing that he looks _just_ like our Major but I’d still never mistake him for our Major. “So, now that I stopped you from making an apology you didn’t have to give me… is there anything else I can do for you?”

 I shake my head. “No, sir. I… really should be going back to the ready room, anyway.”

 He nods. “You leave in about an hour, right?”

 “Yes, sir.” And I really should be going now. Because something in his manner makes something stir inside of me, something I thought I had fully under control.

 “Okay, then. Fair wind and following seas and all that.” Oh jeez.

 “That’s the Navy, sir. We don’t really say that in the Corps.” It makes him show that laugh again, that short genuine and somehow sad little laugh and I realize that he can’t help it. He doesn’t want to but something prompts him to and for some reason that realization tilts a switch inside of me.

 Before I know it, I have taken a step inside his office and next thing I know, I’m standing in front of him, _knowing_ that what I’ll do next will be one of the most stupid things I ever did but sadly, I’m past the point of no return by now.

 He doesn’t change anything in his posture, right down to the hands in his pockets, just looks at me, his eyes narrowed just a bit again, just saying that one word, “Lieutenant?”

 Alright, here goes nothing. “I just want you to know, sir, that I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. Really, really sorry.” And before he can go and ask me what the hell I mean, I have leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

 For a moment, there’s no reaction, none _at all_ , as if he’s a marble statue but then I feel a _surge_ of something and suddenly he’s kissing me back, meeting me halfway and putting a _lot_ of feeling into it. Gone is the disinterest, the downright coldness, replaced by a frightening kind of desperation. The damn kiss is so consuming that I only vaguely register that he moved his hands to cup my face, then muss up my hair, cup the back of my head…

 Oh God. Stop. I need to _stop_.

 Realizing that this whole thing was just one big mistake, I break the kiss, take a step back and for a moment, we just stand there, panting and staring at each other, as if frozen. He never makes a move for another kiss.

 Instead, for a horrible second or two, all his walls are down, leaving behind a deeply scarred man trapped in a hell he can’t get out of and in the most bizarre turn of events my eyes find a picture on the wall, showing two guys, probably in their twenties – the Major and someone looking very much like a younger version of Major Lorne – their arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning into the camera and a frayed, faded small band of black gauze around one of the picture’s corners. It’s not just my counterpart who’s dead in this reality. It’s Major Lorne, too. And another picture, this time the two of them plus a third one, tall, blond, just put of the Academy, the same one Laura has at home, showing the Golden Trio together, again with a that same kind of black fabric band. Oh God. This man, this version of Major Thomas Moore, keeps losing friends, over and over again. I can’t… I just…

 “Did you just do that because you wanted to know what kissing _him_ would feel like?“ What? I blink and focus back on him, expecting to see disappointment or even anger but all I see is resignation. Which is worse than anything else combined.

 I swallow the bile rising in my throat the enormity of what I just did. “No. No, sir.” And it’s true, it’s not why I kissed him. He wasn’t just some stand in guy for the one I _actually_ wanted to kiss. That’s not why I did it. Which begs the question… why _did_ I do it? “I wanted… I wanted _you_ to know what kissing _her_ felt like.” And yeah, I think that’s why I did it. That kind of even makes everything so much worse. “I guess I’m an idiot. I’m just… really sorry. I only wanted… never mind. I’m an idiot. Goodbye.”

 And with that the strange curse keeping me rooted to that spot inside his office is broken and I manage to turn around and walk out as fast as I can, ignoring him calling after me and breaking into a run, trying to get as fast away as I can, not caring that I should be doing something about my hair at least if I don’t want any uncomfortable questions as soon as I get to the read room. What I did was _unforgivable_ and all I want to do now is get the _hell_ out of this reality, unfavorable odds be damned.

 When I do arrive at the ready room, I hesitate to go back in, my breath sounding a lot more ragged than it should after a year of merciless physical conditioning to adhere to the team’s necessary fitness standards. I have to take a moment to lean down, my hands braced on my knees to calm down my breathing and thank God I finally remember to retie my hair into a USMC regulation bun before finally walking in.

 The first thing I notice is that the alternate Laura and Dee must have left at some point because it’s only my team left in here. The second is that they’re all geared up, ready to leave at any moment and I try to go for an apologetic face. “Sorry for being late. I uh was looking for a bath room and got turned around. For some reason they weren’t where I remembered them to be.”

 Everyone is staring at me for a moment before slowly nodding and going back to some nervous habit last minute equipment checks. While I pull on my flak vest and after that clip on the sidearm holster, the Major steps a little closer, asking me in a low voice, with genuine concern, “Hey, Kid, you okay?”

 It’s so earnest that for a moment, I’m nearly overwhelmed enough to blurt out what I just did. In the end, though, I just shoulder my backpack and check my rifle, nodding at him and carefully keeping my voice level when I answer, “Yes, sir. Just trying not to think about the odds is all.”

 I can _see_ that he considers calling me out on my blatant lie – after all, he usually does, just to see me glare at him while he once again details just _how_ bad of a liar I am – but for some unfathomable reason, he goes with, “Yeah, you and me both, Lieutenant.”

 And then Carter is there, a plastic case containing the ZPM in her hand and nodding at us a little apprehensively. We just follow her out of the room, back into the embarkation room. Alternate Laura and Dee are there, their Major noticeably absent and we get some well wishes and a small send-off and then it off to P8G-739 and after that, hopefully, _home_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. One more and we're done with this one. Just _one_ more and I can finally move on to all that _other_ stuff on my hard drive that I really wanted too show you.
> 
> Also, I just realized, once again that I _really_ screwed up the canon timeline and just for the record, I do plan on rectifying that at some point in the future, I promise. But since that's a project on the uh bigger side, I'd rather take my time for it and all. So, just in case some of you have been wondering, yes, I'm aware that lots of this is really wonky and yes, I'm not going to leave it like that for the rest of time. Just... bear with me and ignore it for now? Please?

** Eleven **

_Moore_

 Alright, then. Timer’s set on the ZPM charging station a couple SGC technicians rigged up before we came here, wormhole is established, we’re standing at the dais and the clock is counting backwards. Four, three, two, “Here goes nothing, guys,” one…

 And there we are, back on the alpha site, staring down the barrels of two rifles and one nine-millimeter. Also, back to the headaches and the nausea and… “Tom? The hell are you doing here?”

 I can _just_ manage to choke out, “What does it look like to you?” before losing my breakfast in a pretty much undignified manner. Lorne groans something in the vein of “Aw, jeez,” and honestly, he’s pretty damn lucky I didn’t fucking puke on his _boots_.

 At least after that, the nausea more or less subsides, leaving behind the by now well-known headaches. I force myself to squint up, satisfied to see that at least the alpha site gate guards and Evan Lorne aren’t pointing their guns at us, anymore. Well, not _directly_ , anyway. Next to me, Laura and Dee went through about the same humiliating thing while Reece… at least she looks a little green around the gills, this time. Still no puking from her and that’s just really not _fair_. “Damn Marines.” Oh, did I just say that aloud? Also, seriously, stop with the judgmental looks. “What? You could at least have pretended to be sick, Reece. Would only have been…”

 “ _So_ sorry for interrupting you, but again, _what the hell are you doing here_?” Oh, right, Lorne, still waiting for an answer.

 I frown. “Trying to find out which reality we landed in this time.”

 Before Lorne can answer, Reece manages to mutter, “Definitely not the one we came from, for starters.”

 The hell did that just come from? I give her a dead-pan look. “Care to elaborate, Lieutenant?”

 She looks a little uncomfortable, as if she doesn’t really want to answer but then forces herself to come forward with it, a little reluctantly, “Major Lorne was dead in that other reality, sir.”

 And how the hell does she know _that_? I’m about to make her spill it but Lorne seems to have different ideas. “Could someone _please_ humor me here and tell me what the _hell_ is going on?”

 Mh, someone’s a little tense here. So I’m pretty sure it’s a bad idea to do what I’m about to do but I’d rather be have a reasonably certain idea of where we are currently than accidentally blurt out any more classified information to the wrong reality. I take a deep breath. “I’d love to but first,” damn, have to think _something_ up to… ah, got something, “what happened last time we were all here?”

 “ _What_?” Yep, _bad_ idea. At least, if we’re in just another alternate reality, it’s gotta be closer to ours because the Evan Lorne I know what react in about the same way.

 “It was a simple question. _What_ happened last time we – you, I, my team – were all here?” You know, I’d really love to get up, mostly because having to crane my neck and like that and squint into the sky makes my damn head hurt. But since the two Marines are still vaguely pointing their rifles in my direction, I have a feeling it might be wiser not to make any sudden movements.

 Lorne very much looks like he’s about to shoot me just to make me shut up but then he rolls his eyes in that resigned way of his and says, “Training exercise, I was supposed to monitor and ended up traipsing around the damn forest with Laura and my team during a thunderstorm because you managed to get yourself ambushed by a rogue Marine and dragged Lieutenant Reece down with you and _someone_ had to save your asses. Oh, and your Sergeant uncovered an NID mole in the barracks who’d been working with your abductor. _Now_ can I get some damn answers from you?”

 Huh. I turn to my team. “What do you think, guys?”

 “I think,” Dee says and looks very much like he has severe difficulties staying in his usual dead-pan self, “that we just managed to beat nearly unbeatable odds.”

 Can’t help grinning back at him. “I think we damn well did.”

 “Guys, if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on here ASAP, the odds of me becoming really, _really_ pissed are at about a hundred percent.” Oh, right, yeah, that. “Seriously, someone just _tell_ me. You guys have been missing for three days, it looked very much like you were _dead_ and suddenly you stumble through the Gate, puke your guts out and ask me weird questions. You gotta admit that would make _anyone_ a _little_ suspicious.”

 Well, okay, granted. When he says it like _that_ … I take another deep breath. “You wanna know what happened?” He nods and makes a kind of “Well, _d’uh_!” gesture. “Alternate reality.”

 “What?” Oh come _on_.

 “Alternate. Reality. Something about… guys, anyone remember what happened?” I look at my team and Reece seems to take extra care to make herself invisible. Yeah, no, not gonna happen, Lieutenant. After all, _you_ were the genius who gave Carter the entire idea of how to save our asses. “Lieutenant. You look like you’d love to reprise your role as Major Carter’s muse.”

 Okay, maybe that was a little mean but honestly, if we don’t push her now and again, she’d never take any opportunity to step into the limelight and show some of that intelligence. Honestly, maybe then Gutierrez would stop badgering me that keeping Reece on the team is very much detrimental to her academic success. And you know, best way to push our Lieutenant? Is being an ass about it.

 “I don’t know about being anyone’s _muse_ , sir, but if you want me to, I can of course try to sum it up for Major Lorne.” Yep, works like a charm, every time. I gesture her to go on and she turns to Lorne who seems to have a hard time to keep his temper in check. “Basically, if I remember it correctly, the overload of the ZPM they were trying to recharge on P8G-739 destroyed the planet and produced a gamma ray strong enough to reroute the wormhole to a different reality in the right moment for us to land there.” Sounds about right.

 Lorne seems to think that over for a moment, looking just a little bit impressed at our linguist rattling this all down without even once stumbling over any of the technical terms. In the end he gives a resigned sigh and signals the two Marines to stand down. “You know, that sounds so damn twisted, it actually makes sense. How’d you get back, though?”

 Okay, I think I can answer that. Also, if I push Reece even further, probably both Laura and Dee will have my damn ass. For some reason, both of them hate it when I do it. Not to mention that Reece does, too and I know for a fact that she has a really mean right hook. “Reversed the whole process, exchanging the alpha site for the SGC as return address.” Lorne raises an eyebrow, as if he wants me to continue, probably just to see if _I_ can go through the entire process without stumbling over any of the technical terms. “We didn’t have time to figure out the timing for synchronizing sending an IDC _and_ ourselves through the Gate with the gamma ray. None of us were really keen on slamming into the iris.”

 “You know you’re gonna be Carter’s new favorite team soon as you get back to SGC, don’t you?” Yeah, and I’m not sure if I like that prospect. Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hell out of Carter but being in the same room with her for more than two minutes always makes me feel extra dumb. For an entire day.

 “Don’t look so smug about it. Just wait until _you_ encounter your first physically improbable phenomenon.” And I really hope he does. Soon. Because if _I_ get to be subjected to the whole Carter treatment, he damn well has, too. “Also, can we get up without any of you shooting us now?”

He looks _very_ much like he’d love to tell me no, just to spite me but I guess he likes the rest of my team too much to drag them into it, so in the end he just nods and we get up, dusting ourselves off and by now at least the headache subsided enough not to be too much of a pain in the ass anymore. “Alright, let me just contact the SGC and see what I can do to get you home.”

 Well that’s nice of him, I guess.

 It does take him a couple minutes to convince them that yes, it’s really us and that no, he doesn’t think it necessary to keep us detained at the alpha site until further notice but in the end, the words “alternate reality” seem to be too much of a pull to resist to the scientists and we get orders to proceed through the Gate for check-up and debriefing. Lorne just nods at us to go through and I know I should just let it lie but something in way he told us about us being suspected dead makes me say it anyway when I walk past him. “Just one more question: if we had actually died, would you have missed me? Even just a little?”

 It was supposed to be a stupid quip, just to rile him up a little which is why the seriousness in his voice throws me off in a weird way when his only answer is a quiet, “Don’t, Tom.”

 Okay, so I hadn’t… “Hey, Tom, let’s just go home, okay?” Right, yeah, that’s a good point Laura just made. I just hope we end up at the right SGC. I’m really done with alternate realities for the time being.

_DeLisle_

Ah, home sweet home. It’s weird how I never realized that I’d be able to pick out our SGC from among probably a dozen others that look exactly the same. I don’t really know what it is but yep, I only needed to take one step away from the Gate to know that that’s definitely the SGC we came from. That’s kind of reassuring, actually.

 What is also _kind_ of reassuring – but mostly annoying – is the certainty that _if_ you come back from something as an alternate reality, the debriefing will be brutal, even the one directly after the mission. Which is why we’ve been sitting here for two hours straight, recounting _everything_ that happened, every damn minute of the mission, over and over again. Thankfully at least Samantha Carter is currently off-world, or we sure as hell wouldn’t get out of here for the rest of the _day_. I really, really respect and admire her but man, when it’s about physics, she really is like a dog with a bone and as much as I _understand_ that scientific candor, I’m not above admitting that I really need a fucking _break_.

 I’m not the only one, either, judging from the looks of my team mates – Maureen trying very hard to look alert and attentive and failing miserably, Laura not being able to resist showing her disapproval for still being in the briefing room for something that could easily have been done in thirty minutes and the Major growing increasingly unable to just tell Landry to screw himself and walk out of the briefing – and I’ve got a feeling that Landry doesn’t want to be in here anymore than we do. But apparently, he’d still rather spent those two hours cooped up in here with us and Bill Lee than face Carter and having to tell her that he sent us home after a cursory debriefing when she comes back from her mission in a couple hours. Can’t even fault him for that, to be honest.

 “So,” Bill Lee moves to say, clearly oblivious of the murderous glares both Laura and the Major are throwing him, “what you’re saying is that essentially a gamma ray spike diverted the wormhole you were travelling through to _another reality_?” Before anyone can answer and tell him that our answer definitely is not going to change, no matter if he asks us that same question _another_ approximately thirty times, he shakes his head and mutters, mostly to himself, “But that shouldn’t even be _possible_. Every calculation…”

 “Dr. Lee,” Landry simply admonishes but it looks like Lee is beyond caring, still muttering to himself, until Landry puts some actual _force_ into his voice, reiterating a simple, “ _Doctor_.”

 Lee stops in his tracks, blinks and seems to have found a way back to the present. Yay. “Right. Right, sorry, General. Anyway, _maybe_ , you know, _theoretically_ this _is_ possible. But you coming _back_ , well, the odds are…”

 “Astronomical, yes, you said that before, Doctor.” The Major is getting ever more pissed and right now, Laura doesn’t look inclined to stop him from a more aggressive approach and quite frankly, neither am I. “Sir, honestly, we’ve been over this a _hundred_ times by now. None of us are physicists so it’s _highly_ unlikely that any of us could contribute more than what we have already given you.”

 Landry, surprisingly, nods and says, “I agree, Major.” And, to Lee, “Doctor, I suggest we close this up and return tomorrow for a more thorough debriefing when SG1 are back.” Oh _hell_ no. The Major looks like that’s _exactly_ what he’s about to say but Landry has caught on to it fast enough, adding, “I don’t want to hear anything, Major. Debriefing tomorrow is non-negotiable.” And cue Dr. Lee… “Neither is _concluding_ the current debriefing, Dr. Lee.”

 Did I just hear Maureen murmur, “Thank _God_ ,” under her breathing? Nah, sure didn’t, as exhausted and fed up as she is, she still wouldn’t… okay, she would, judging from the blush creeping up from her neck and her attempt at becoming invisible.

 Thankfully, at least Landry seems to have chosen to ignore it and continues, “Very well, SG10, dismissed. Report back to base tomorrow at 0800. Until then you’re on downtime.” With that, he nods at us, then moves to leave the room, _almost_ reaching out to Dr. Lee to drag him after him. Thank God, Dr. Lee has enough sense not to linger and try to continue the debriefing “informally” but hurries out of the room after Landry.

 Ugh, _finally_. At least they let us have the post-mission physical _before_ they dragged us into the briefing room, so we’re free to leave the base to go home. Well, okay, the others leave the base to go home, I just… “Okay, you know the drill, everyone. I think it’s your turn, girls.” Right. For some reason, spending the aftermath of a mission at either the Major’s house or Laura and Maureen’s apartment seems to have become an official tradition by now. No idea how _that_ happened but from the looks of both, they seem to have something to say about that. Something _contrary_. “Nuh-uh, no butting out. Unless you don’t feel like getting free mac’n’chee…”

 “Yes, okay, fine, it’s our turn.” That _was_ kind of mean. The Major knows better than anyone that Laura and macaroni and cheese have a very… special relationship – some would even call it a one-sided dependency – and of course he’d use it as soon as it could come in handy. Until a few weeks ago, she has apparently been able to keep it from the rest of us but then they have it in the mess hall, we miss it due to a botched, absolutely useless mission and she gets really, _really_ pissed for missing out on it. And we’re talking _mess hall_ mac’n’cheese here, not the homemade comfort food I want to marry this dish kind of mac’n’cheese she forced to make the Major after that mission.

 Maureen, for her part, just snorts and mutters something sounding suspiciously like, “You are so _weak_ , Greenspan,” earning herself a dark glare from Laura before clearing her throat and pointing out, “Unfortunately, sir, we’re out of basically everything.”

He just rolls his eyes. “ _Again_? Seriously, guys, we need to talk about your take-out habit.” Both of them move to contradict him, probably to tell him that their eating routines are none of his damn business but he holds up a hand to forestall any protestations. “Alright, you two go home and prep the kitchen, while Dee and I…”

 “Uh, no, sorry, sir, I uh, I really need to take care of some lab stuff. Really can’t wait, sir.” Because no way in _hell_ I’m going _grocery shopping_ with the Major. I mean, that’s the guy who once told me that “the only thing better than sex? Is finding the perfect steak and buying it before someone else does”. You don’t go grocery shopping with someone like that if you value your sanity. And I very _much_ value my sanity.

 He looks at me with his eyes narrowed, just for a second and I’m pretty sure that Maureen and Laura have severe difficulties not breaking out laughing but Laura at least should know how serious this is, shouldn’t she? Then, in the end, he seems to rethink his approach. “As I was saying, Laura and Reece, you go home as an advance party, I go get everything I need and Dee you… do whatever you think you have to do to get out of grocery shopping and then get your ass to the girls’ apartment.”

 Okay, I can live with that. “Fair enough, sir.”

 With that, the team breaks up, leaving me to walk in the opposite direction as the Major just went, just to make sure that I don’t get roped into anything post-briefing, after all. Unfortunately, I also find myself without something to do for the next, let’s say thirty minutes at least because I wouldn’t put it past the Major to ambush me just outside the gates and drag me grocery shopping after all, simply to get back at me for weaseling my way out of it.

 So… ah, right. I do have one long-term experiment in the lab that I need to check on periodically. Also, changing into civvies would be a good idea, so I decide to first swing by my quarters for a quick shower and change of clothes and then maybe have a look at the lab later.

 Which, in theory, sounded like a really good idea but once I’m in the shower, I realize my mistake. Because you know what happens when I get into a shower after a mission? I start analyzing it, going through it. Not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or some way to compartmentalize, like special forces soldiers are conditioned to but that’s where I do it and that’s – _usually_ – where it stays. Keeps me from overanalyzing things and dwelling on them, brooding. Well, mostly, at least.

 This time, though, it only serves to remind me of what that other me said to me about Laura. That is, about _his_ Laura and whatever _thing_ they seem to have going, maybe have had going for _years_. And about that, let’s call it advice he gave me of not waiting too long. If we’d had more time, or had been alone, maybe, _maybe_ I would have told him about Tali and the way it ended, _really_ ended. About still waking up some nights panting after reliving shooting her point-blank between the eyes again and again, or waking up from Laura’s and Tali’s face being exchanged in my dreams, and it’s _Laura_ I’m pointing my gun at instead of Tali. Maybe I would have told him about being afraid that it’s me, that it was somehow my fault, that maybe I’m just really bad for the women I fall for.

 Or maybe I would have told him about that kiss back on Pikes Peak, about constantly remembering it whenever I look at Laura or talk to her or just _think_ about her, about some nights waking up panting for totally _other_ reasons than nightmares and those reasons always involving Laura in some kind.

  _Fuck_ , it’s happening again. I’ve _tried_ not to be turned on by Laura, you know, to see her in a completely platonic and unsexual way and until Pikes Peak, that had been hard but doable. After Pikes Peak… all I can sometimes think about is what it would be like to kiss her again, deepen it, going where we might have gone if the Major hadn’t interrupted us. And it’s not just that. I also keep wondering what it would be like to drive up to her apartment, just spend a night on the couch with only her as company or call her in the middle of the night, simply to hear her voice…

 I am a _mess_. And I really, _really_ need to do something about it. Until last night, I’d been so _sure_ that simply not talking about it and pretending it didn’t happen _was_ doing something about it but apparently – and quite rationally, to be honest – it was a load of bullshit. Once again, I’ve been lying to myself and now I have no idea how to go on.

 But yeah, unfortunately, _talking_ to Laura about it sounds like a really smart option for a first step. And I’m all for _smart_ options, if, you know, you’ve run out of all the _dumb_ ones.

 So I sigh, turn off the shower and go looking for my phone after toweling off and putting on civvies. For a moment, I consider calling her but then I remember that she’s most likely either driving herself or riding shot-gun to Maureen. Either way, she’s not _alone_ , so I decide to text her, hoping I’m not making a _huge_ mistake. Because honestly, I’m kind of tired of making those.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's a wrap. Wow. I am finally done, done, _done_ with this fic. I can't believe it took me so long, and quite frankly, I can even less believe that finishing it went so fucking _fast_ in the end. I hope you liked that ride, even though I built in a pretty long pause.

** Twelve **

_Greenspan_

 I’m not sure what I hate more. My tragic and somewhat embarrassing dependence on pasta drenched in cream and covered with an unholy amount of cheese or how little scruples Tom has about manipulating me through it. Seriously, every other food and I’d have told him to go to hell. Damn mac’n’cheese, the way his mother taught him to make it, it’s like fucking _crack_. It’s also not helping that Maureen apparently can’t stop throwing me those covert amused looks of hers. We’ve been out of the SGC for over ten minutes and she’s _still_ doing it. Oh for God’s sake. “ _Stop_ that, goddammit.”

 “Stop what?” She _tried_ to sound all clueless but honestly, she’s close to full out giggling. What kind of Marine _giggles_?

 “ _That_. It’s not _funny_ , okay?” And it isn’t. I really thought I’d been over the whole unfortunate mac’n’cheese addiction thing but, as that err incident from a few weeks ago showed, I was _dead_ wrong.

 Maureen snorts. “Yes, it is. Mac’n’cheese? Really? _That’s_ your kryptonite?”

 “It’s _not_ my “kryptonite”, it’s…” I’m not sure what it is – other than my kryptonite, I mean – but I was going to say _something_. Thankfully, I’m saved by my phone alerting me to having received a text message. “Hey, can you get that for me?”

 I throw her a side look before accelerating to pass the slowest driver I ever encountered on this side of the Rockies and I’m pretty sure she’s still finding the whole mac’n’cheese thing immensely funny but at least she does what I asked her and scoops my phone out of the middle console. I can hear the frown in her voice when she says, “It’s from Dee. You want me to…”

 Oh for Heaven’s sake, it’s not like I have been keeping anything from her concerning Dee and me. In fact, she’s the only one who knows about it in the first place. “Yes, I do. He probably just wants to know if Tom is still waiting for him outside the gates or something.”

 Was that just a resigned sigh? “Okay, fine.” I can hear her clicking around on my phone, then… what? Why doesn’t she just read it? And why does that moron behind us keep driving so damn close? I am already over the speed limit, _what is your fucking problem, asshole_?

 “Maureen? What does he say?” Because really, we don’t have all day here. She just clears her throat. “Maureen! Just read it out already.”

 “Alright, fine. He says that he “did some thinking” and wants to “talk to you”.” She pauses and I have a feeling I don’t even want to see the look on her face because I’m not gonna like it. “Laura? _Please_ don’t tell me you still haven’t talked to him about Pikes Peak?”

 Well, technically, “I uh I might have… not gotten around to doing it yet?”

 “Laura, it’s been _weeks_ since that happened!” Yes, and I _know_ that? “I mean, we _talked_ about that? You said you would…”

 “I _know_ what I said, Maureen.” Trust me, no one knows better than I do. Because every time I’ve been around Dee, I was reminded of how that kiss felt and of how _much_ I wanted to repeat it despite the fact that I should be wishing it never happened. “It’s just… it’s really damn complicated, okay?”

 I half expect her to tell me that there is _nothing_ complicated about it but instead she simply says, “It always is,” as if she knows that feeling intimately well. Considering everything that has been going down – or _not_ going down – between Tom and her, I guess she does. I can’t say for sure because I had to change lanes and that moron behind us still keeps annoying me but I’m pretty sure she just did that thing when she straightens up, as if visibly reminding herself that she has to stay on target here. “Anyway. What do you wanna do about it?”

 “About what exactly?” Oh come on, don’t give me that “is she just pretending to be stupid or is she really this dense?” look you usually reserve for _other_ people. “I mean, Dee, the kiss incident…”

 “The message, for starters.” Right. Smart ass.

 I can’t help grinning, while taking our exit. “Fair enough. Okay, uh… tell him that I’m okay with that and that I wouldn’t mind doing it after tomorrow’s debriefing.” I can hear her snort and I almost expect her to tell me that that’s a _really_ stupid idea, considering that there’s a pretty big likelihood that we’ll be good for basically nothing else than sitting around in our offices and staring at the wall for the rest of the day after that briefing so I feel compelled to add, “Just tell him, okay? If it doesn’t work out, we’ll find a different opportunity. I just don’t want him to think that I’m evading him or anything.”

 Because I’m not. I mean, I may have been doing it for the last couple of weeks but really, there wasn’t a good time for that kind of talk, anyway and _he_ could have said something, too, so technically, there wasn’t much avoiding in the first place. Right?

 “Okay, you’re the boss,” Maureen just quips and I hear her typing away while I drive up to our house. There’s a parking spot almost right in front of our door and I maneuver the car into it, getting it done right when Maureen finishes typing and I hear my phone telling me that it successfully sent and delivered the message. We both get out of the car and I kind of hope that that’s the end of it, but of course Maureen has different ideas. “So, what are you gonna tell him once you find that “opportunity” to talk?”

 That sneaky little vixen. I can see from the little grin she’s barely holding back that she knows exactly what she just asked and she actually _enjoys_ seeing me squirm. I can’t believe I fell into that trap. I’ve been living with her for almost a year, I should have _known_ about that vindictive side of hers. Goddammit. And worst of all, the only answer I have for her is a grunted, “Hell if I know.”

 I expect her to be at least a little smug about it, something along the lines of “I _told_ you that whole thing was trouble” but what she actually does is, yes, look a _little_ smug and then sobering up, telling me instead, “Hey, don’t worry. We’re gonna find a way out of that mess.”

 Yeah. At least she didn’t use the word “clusterfuck” because honestly, I’m not sure that wouldn’t be more appropriate. Developing something akin to feelings – yes, sometimes I  really am an immature commitment phobic – for an NCO directly in my chain of command who also happens to be ten years my senior… yeah, that is a _really_ stupid thing to do. I take a deep breath while unlocking the front door to our building. “I’m gonna hold you to that promise if this goes sideways.”

 “Isn’t that what friends are for?” she simply says as she walks up the stairs behind me.

 Well, I guess she’s right and I’m this close to offering her that same service over the whole thing with Tom but I am smart enough to realize that now’s neither the time nor the place for it. Neither of them is ready for any of that – case in point: Tom’s reaction when I shoved my suspicions about his feelings for Maureen in his face back at the alternate SGC – and I sure as hell ain’t gonna meddle around with _that_ one in the foreseeable future.

 So I stay the hell away from it and unlock the door to our apartment. “Alright… let’s do that prep the kitchen thing Tom asked us to do, huh?”

 Maureen just makes a face. “Yeah, let’s just do that.”

 Oh well. At least we get superior mac’n’cheese out of this whole thing. That’s gotta be something, right?

  _Reece_

 You know, the Major’s cooking skills? That’s definitely one of the things I’d miss if I were ever to leave the team.

 Something that, until very recently, seemed very much out of the question, but ever since the beginning of this last mission, something has been churning deep inside my mind. Until now, I did my best to ignore it as I have been trying to ignore Dr. Gutierrez and her urgings to consider leaving the team for a career move. For _Atlantis_.

 Ever since that call for personnel to volunteer, she’s been badgering me about it, telling me to consider it, since I didn’t want to consider _other_ options of career advancement because I didn’t want to leave the Corps just yet. I’d always told her no, told her that I’m right where I want to be with my career right now, that being on an off-world team meant a great deal to me because only so few people of my background get to enjoy that privilege.

 And then we fell down the rabbit hole and everything went to hell. I’m not even sure when exactly it happened but at some point, suddenly leaving the team, leaving the SGC, leaving _Earth_ didn’t seem like such a bad idea, after all. Maybe it was when the Major threw that hissy fit about not being told that I’m an Ancient gene carrier – because, you know, _it was right there in my file_ and he apparently didn’t even bother to read it when he sure as hell was alerted that there was an update in it – or maybe it was in that Ancient installation. Knowing you have that gene is one thing, seeing what you can _do_ with it… a whole other ballgame. It was as if everything in that installation was, well, not precisely _talking_ to me but definitely _communicating_ in a certain way, as if…

 “Hey, Kid. You’ve been awfully quiet since we started eating. Don’t tell me I messed up the pasta _that_ bad.” Oh, damn. I thought with the usual banter between Dee, Laura and the Major, they wouldn’t even notice if I held back a little and slipped into contemplative mode.

 But then again, I should have known that the weird tension between Laura and Dee – not actually awkward but charged, nevertheless – that had been there ever since Dee arriving here shortly after the Major wouldn’t go away over plates of mac’n’cheese, no matter _how_ good it was and well, they’re still all looking at me and I guess I should do something about that. I attempt an apologetic face. “No, sir. Pasta’s good.”

 “Wow, you’re verbose tonight.” That gets him a glare from Laura and blushing from me. Damn. “What? I mean, I really did put a lot of effort into this. Least you could do is…”

 “Knock it off, Tom,” Laura admonishes him lazily, probably halfway into a blissful food coma.

 And truth to be told, “I’m sorry, sir. Of course this was an extraordinary batch of macaroni and cheese and I’m proud to have been present to partake in it.”

 That makes him stare at me and then, after a second of probably considering whether I’m serious or just being a little shit, he starts laughing, out loud, something he doesn’t do very often. Usually, something has to _really_ amuse him to get a bigger reaction than a snort or a short chuckle out of him. The only step-up from this is a kind of silent, shaking laughter that looks very much like he has difficulties breathing. I’ve seen that one only once during my stay with the SGC and it involved Major Lorne and… “Good one, Reece.”

 Right. That’s probably the highest form of a compliment one can receive from the Major. I can’t help giving him a smug little grin. “I aim to please, sir.”

 That makes Laura and Dee grin, too and the Major gives me something that might or might not have been a look of appraisal. Huh. “You know, I got a feeling that my work here is done. Figure that.”

 The hell is that supposed to… “You know, I think you’re right, Tom. Our baby Marine is finally grown-up.”

 Right.

 What?

 I look at them with my eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I get what you’re saying.”

 “It’s pretty easy, actually,” Dee volunteers and I’m pretty sure that it’s anything but… “Making a key contribution to a mission’s success, effectively standing up to _two_ versions of Major Moore, soloing in a retrieval mission… and making the Major laugh on top of it. You finally got your wings, Maureen.”

 Technically, wings don’t mean much to me as I’m neither a pilot nor Air Force but yes, now I do get what they’re saying. And of course, my first reaction is clearing my throat awkwardly and looking down, feeling my cheeks warm with a fervent blush. _Goddammit_.

 It just makes them all laugh again and it takes every ounce of dignity I can muster up to just look back up, take a deep breath and mumble my thanks before deciding that I really need a break from this, just for a moment. “Okay, uh, you know, how about you just let my show my gratitude by clearing up while you go and uh make yourself comfortable or something.”

 Laura wants to volunteer to help, I can see that but I gesture for her to stay seated and get up instead, collecting plates and cutlery while they share a look and a shrug and then move over to the couch, taking their beers with them.

 Alright, so… Grown-up Marine. My wings. Ready to… take off and fly? Fly where?

 Atlantis. Or at least that’s what Dr. Gutierrez would say.

 And what, much more important, my gut’s saying, too.

 You know, it’s not even the abrupt decision it seems to be. In truth, this has been brewing for a while, I just didn’t have the heart to be honest with myself and confront it head-on. Ever since I got told that I have that gene, I’ve been subconsciously mulling it over, to the point that I was _dreaming_ about it repeatedly and I guess it’s time I face the best solution, not the most comfortable one. And the _best_ decision is not the decision to _stay_.

 Oh _fuck_.

 “Hey, you okay, Maureen?” Yeah, sure, of course I am. That plate that just clattered to the kitchen floor? Just being a little clumsy, nothing to worry about.

 Also, it’s totally incidental that it happened in the moment I realized that I made that decision already weeks ago. I take care not to clear my throat when I just throw a, “Yeah, everything fine,” over my shoulder before crouching down and collecting the pieces of the shattered plate.

 Damn, what am I even doing here? There is _nothing_ incidental about me dropping that plate and I’m really screwed. Because now that I quit lying to myself… I know I can’t go back. I mean, sure, I could but here’s the thing: I shouldn’t. And quite frankly, I don’t really want to.

 It’s not that I don’t like being on SG10. In fact, I love being on this team. I love working in the SGC and I know that after this, I don’t think I can ever go back to Big Corps and not be sorry for having to do it.

 But yeah, ultimately, there’s this _one_ thing that tips the scale in a way I can’t go back to before that decision, and the most embarrassing about it is that it’s neither military nor academically related. It’s personal. Really fucking personal.

 Because see, the reason, and that’s the funny thing, that finally made me decide wasn’t the kiss. Or at least not _just_ the kiss. No, mostly it was that evening in the alternate reality SGC’s infirmary, when the Major made me lie down so he could distract me from the crippling fear I felt about next day’s mission. I realized that I could fall in love with _my_ reality’s Major Moore, too, if I weren’t careful. And, even worse, that there was a chance _he_ might fall in love with _me_ and after seeing what losing my counterpart did to _his_ counterpart, that was the one thing I couldn’t bear. Thinking of the Major as a shell of his former self, as _this_... no. And that’s why I’m going to do what I’m about to do, as embarrassing as it is that the thing tipping the scales is about a damn _guy_.

 Okay, then. Time to quit stalling and face the music. No time like the present and all that. I square my shoulders and walk over to the living area, where Dee, Laura and the Major are embroiled in a search for a suitable movie to slouch off to on the couch, Laura and the Major apparently rehashing the mission while doing so. Seems like I caught the tail end, the Major kind of gruffly remarking, “You know, that guy really rubbed me the wrong way. I mean, I get it, he just lost a team member and all but…”

 “Well, at least _you_ aren’t going anywhere in the near future,” Laura says, apparently having noticed me standing behind the sofa and grinning at me with relief written all over her face, and I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. Very shortly, I consider simply nodding and reassuring her that of course I’m not going anywhere. But yeah, best decision, not most comfortable. Least thing I can do is to finally be honest about it and tell them before I tell anyone else. They’re my team and they deserve that much.

 I take a deep breath. “Yeah, uh, about _that_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, just for the record: there's one more wrap-up interlude four-parter at the SGC. After that, I'll move to Atlantis (mostly, anyway). I decided to do most of what happens to the _Minor Characters_ cast after Maureen goes to Atlantis in one-shots (possibly up to about the same time _Protect and Survive_ starts, or maybe one multi-chapter per Atlantis season or something, we'll see) accompanying the respective SGA seasons, losely based on the show's episodes. They'll be in one-shot collections under the label of _Off the Record_ and I'll try to do them in the same chronological order as the season's episodes. We'll see how that one works out but I do have _some_ material written and since I'm in the process of writing my Master's thesis, I'm a getting a feeling that I might get a lot of procrastination fic writing done...


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